


What More to Ask For

by dare121



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Cute Dogs, F/F, Five Years Later, Lesbian Riza Hawkeye, Lesbian Winry Rockbell, Post-Canon, soft touches, wound care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:16:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dare121/pseuds/dare121
Summary: Ed looks annoyed when Winry steps off the train, even though he is the one who suggested her as a replacement in the first place.--or, Winry moves to Central City to possibly be Central Command's new automail mechanic.Due to unforeseen circumstances, she decides to stay with Lieutenant Hawkeye until she can find her footing in the city.Somehow, they fall in love along the way.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Winry Rockbell
Comments: 51
Kudos: 112





	1. a rough start

**Author's Note:**

> here i am, after two and a half weeks of frantic writing and two of the worst years of depression to bring you this 52k baby *slaps it on the roof*
> 
> some info up front: in this Post-Canon, Mustang and Havoc decided not to use the philosopher's stone to reverse the effects of the war. hence, Mustang is still blind and Havoc is still in his wheelchair. just in case you're confused.
> 
> now, i hope you enjoy this little adventure!

Ed looks annoyed when Winry steps off the train, even though he is the one who suggested her as a replacement in the first place. 

Since his decision to stay with the military takes him away from Resembool for most of the year, Winry is surprised at how tall he’s grown every time she sees him since the Promised Day came and went. Even though it has been five years in the making, she still misses the days when she could pat him on the head and call him short just to amuse herself.

“You’re late,” he laments as she hugs him, keeping his arms crossed over his uniformed chest. At least it’s no longer odd to see him in the standard-issue blue uniform.

“I think you’ll find that the  _ train _ is late,” Winry teases, poking Ed in his cheek. “Nothing to be done about it, I’m afraid.” He harrumphs but doesn’t complain further, which Winry chalks up as a win. “Now, where is it you’re taking me? Straight to the big boss?”

“We’re meeting Mustang in his office.” Ed grabs Winry’s bag and hoists it over his shoulder. “Come on, I have someone waiting for us in the car.” 

When they leave the platform, Winry lifts a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun, and her mood brightens considerably when she sees Major Armstrong standing next to a military vehicle, his mustache as neatly combed as ever.

“Major Armstrong, it’s so nice to see you again!” she calls out with a wave, causing the major to throw out his arms in joy.

“Most cherished Winry Rockbell, what an honor to have you with us on this wonderful day!” he bellows, stepping away from the car to bow before her, only too happy to reciprocate her hug when she throws herself into his arms. “I do hope your journey to Central Amestris was a most pleasant affair!”

“It was alright,” she concedes, taking a deep breath when she is released from the officer’s muscly arms. “Although the greeting party could have used some improvement.” She sends Ed a mock-annoyed glance, which gets exactly the reaction she hoped for. More huffing and a tongue stuck in her reaction.

“I’m sure young Edward Elric was equally as thrilled to have you with us once more!” Major Armstrong exclaims, wrapping an arm around Ed’s shoulders and pulling him close before Ed can protest or slip away unnoticed. 

Winry snickers.

-

The military buildings in Central City look almost the same as they did five years ago, although of course the chunk that was missing has since been replaced by something else. Winry almost finds comfort in the way things have changed and stayed the same. At least she knows the places where Ed is hanging out.

She smiles at the soldiers she recognizes and nods to the ones she doesn’t who acknowledge her. Soon, she might become more of a staple around these parts, so it can’t hurt to put her best foot forward for now. She’s still undecided and she’s not sure she wants to spend more time away from her grandmother than she needs to. And yet, the thought of a job closer to Ed sounds nice.

Besides, if she tries hard enough, she might even be able to convince old Pinako Rockbell to move to Central Amestris with her. If she begs enough. And grovels.

“I don’t think I could get used to just how big this place is,” she mentions off-handedly as they walk along yet another corridor. “Would my office be on the ground floor, or nah?”

She hears a quiet  _ lazy _ slip out of the side of Ed’s mouth and digs her elbow into his side.

“Ow!” he gripes, before shoving her right back. “It wouldn’t hurt you to walk up a few flights of stairs, you know? It looks to me like you could use some exercise.”

She blows out her cheeks and slaps him upside the head.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I might be!”

Just before she can retaliate in a more violent form, Major Armstrong stops next to a door and gestures dramatically at it.

“We have arrived!” he calls out, before opening the entrance with a flourish and bowing at them more urgently. “General Mustang will be most happy to welcome you.” His eyes glitter with friendly assurance, and Winry kicks Ed once in the shin before smiling at the major and walking into the office beyond.

“Thank you for coming to get me, Major Armstrong. It’s always a pleasure to see you.” She stretches out her hand and he bypasses it entirely, instead choosing to squeeze both of her shoulders.

“The pleasure was all mine, Miss Rockbell!”

Once he’s gone, Winry takes a look around the lavishly decorated room she’s just stepped into, noting faintly that there are several desks arranged to be facing each other and the door, with one placed just to the left of another door at the back of the room. Behind this particular desk sits a woman Winry remembers well, and her heart skips a happy little beat when First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye smiles at her. 

“Miss Rockbell, right on time,” Lieutenant Hawkeye says as she gets to her feet. “The general is almost finished with his after-lunch meeting.”

Despite the pleased tingle in her chest, Winry gives Ed a smug look at the  _ right on time _ comment. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant Hawkeye. How have you been?” Winry asks as she makes her way further in, before looking around at the other people in the room and nodding to them as they wave and greet her. She hopes the flush on her cheeks isn’t too noticeable.

“I can’t complain,” the lieutenant replies sincerely, stretching out her hand and accepting Winry’s in a gentle handshake. Her skin is warm to the touch and Winry notices just the barest hint of the understated perfume the lieutenant uses as she leans closer to her. “I hope the journey from Resembool wasn’t unpleasant.”

Their hands let go and Winry is temporarily unsure how to move forward with her body language. Should she cross her arms or would that come off as too defensive? Or should she cross them behind her back instead? Would that seem too forward and open?

The whole thing vexes her. She’s always looked up to Hawkeye as a person and as a woman, and the fact that they could be colleagues, if Winry decides to stay here, doesn’t untangle the knot of feelings inside of her brain one iota.

“No, no, it was alright.” Unthinkingly, Winry reaches up to her head and starts twirling a strand of hair around her finger nervously.

“Good, that’s good,” Lieutenant Hawkeye says, her voice sounding sincerely glad that Winry’s journey was uncomplicated. “I know the general has been looking forward to your interview. We’re very excited at the prospect of having such an accomplished automail mechanic within our ranks.” Hawkeye takes a step back and leans her hip against her desk. “If you decide to stay, of course. The general is aware of what a big ask this would be of you.”

Before Winry can say something embarrassing or clever (she hasn’t quite decided on the direction), Ed lets out a snort of derision from behind her.

“Oh, please,” he asserts with a punch to Winry’s shoulder. “Of course she’s going to say yes. She’d be a colossal idiot not to.” 

Balling her hands into fists, Winry turns around towards her friend and is on the verge of giving him a hefty piece of her mind, when the door behind them opens up and an older-looking gentleman leaves General Mustang’s office. His boisterous laugh echoes around the room and drowns out whatever thoughts Winry had about going off on Ed’s insensitivity. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll think about it,” he says and reaches back behind himself to take Mustang’s proffered hand and shake it firmly. “Same time next week, General?”

“Of course, General,” Mustang replies, his deep voice sounding exactly the same as it did the last time Winry met him about three years ago when they said goodbye to Al at the train station and sent him off to Xing. “Same time as always.”

The older man nods and turns around, finally taking note of the two extra people in the office.

“Ah, I see you have a full schedule, General Mustang. I will be on my way, then.” He smiles at Winry, before turning to Lieutenant Hawkeye and giving her a respectful nod. “Lieutenant.”

“General,” Hawkeye replies with a nod of her own, before the old man takes his leave.

Winry follows him with her eyes only for a moment, before her focus is drawn back to Mustang, whose face turns towards Hawkeye’s voice. 

“Can I talk to you for a second, Lieutenant?” he asks, gesturing behind himself with his hand. “I hope you don’t mind, Miss Rockbell, I just need to hand Lieutenant Hawkeye some paperwork she needs to look at while we’re having our interview.”

How General Mustang knows she’s here when she hasn’t said a single word, Winry isn’t sure. Of course, he could have simply intuited that the other general meant her by the reference to a full schedule, but then again that could have pertained to any number of other things. 

In the back of her mind, a memory niggles her, of Ed telling her about his friend Ling Yao and his ability to read the Qi of nearby people and creatures. But she’s not sure how versed the general has become in Xingese alchemy over the past years.

Or maybe she’s overthinking it - maybe it was simply a well-placed guess.

Realizing that both Hawkeye and Ed are staring at her, waiting for her response, Winry flushes in embarrassment and quickly gives her reassurances, which brings a smile to Mustang’s lips.

“Thank you. Won’t be a moment,” he says, gesturing for Hawkeye again before turning back to his office and walking inside. When he jams his foot against the doorframe and curses, Winry winces in sympathy but pretends she didn’t see anything. Not that Mustang would know any different.

As she passes her, Hawkeye gently squeezes Winry’s shoulder and gives her another smile, wiping any secondhand embarrassment straight from her mind. Even though the touch is fleeting, her mind zeroes in on the point of contact, and while Winry knows on an intellectual level that Mustang is the flame alchemist in this office, she feels like Hawkeye’s hand is scorching her. 

As soon as the door is closed once more, Ed shoulders past Winry and slouches down in Hawkeye’s chair, uncaring of the emotions going through his best friend’s mind. 

“You know she hates it when you do that,” Second Lieutenant Havoc calls over to him, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his wheelchair and giving Ed a knowing stare. 

“I know.” Ed fumbles with the chair until the backrest comes loose enough for him to lean back casually and send Havoc a shiteating grin. 

Winry rolls her eyes.

“Why are you always such a jerk? You’re never going to find a girlfriend if you keep acting like a six-year-old.” She kicks him again, hard enough for him to almost lose balance on the nice leather desk chair.

He pouts defiantly.

“You’re one to talk! I’m not the one who never leaves Granny Pinako’s workshop! How are  _ you _ ever going to find a girlfriend that way?” He kicks her back, unperturbed by the storm of righteous anger building up in Winry’s body and by the hush that falls over the office at his foolish words.

From behind her, she hears Captain Falman whisper. “That’s just not something you should ever ask a woman if you want to stay alive.”

Her fist shaking in front of her, Winry has just thought up the best plan of action for making Ed a head smaller than he currently is, when the door to General Mustang’s office opens once more to admit Lieutenant Hawkeye back into the room.

“The general is ready for you now, Miss Rockbell,” she says, her eyes straying to Ed’s lounging body in her chair and a muscle twitching at the corner of her mouth.

With a glare, Winry points first at her eyes and then at Ed.

“This isn’t over,” she says, before turning around with an annoyed huff and storming directly into Mustang’s office. 

-

General Mustang is already sitting behind his desk when Winry closes the door to his office behind herself. There’s a young woman with dark skin and short, curly black hair sitting at a desk next to his own, her hands poised across a typewriter, no doubt to take notes about the upcoming conversation for future reports.

“It’s nice to see you again, General Mustang,” Winry says by way of formal greeting, sending a small smile towards the woman who waves back at her happily. 

“Likewise,” Mustang replies, before gesturing to the woman. “This is Second Lieutenant Mia Albatross; she’s my personal assistant. I hope it’s alright that she will be present for our discussion.”

“Of course.”

Sitting down gingerly in the seat just in front of Mustang’s desk, Winry takes in the walking stick leaning against the wall behind her possible future superior, and tries not to think about how odd it is that Mustang isn’t looking directly at her. In her job as an automail mechanic, she has had cause to interact with many soldiers wounded in the line of duty, but there have admittedly been very few who have gone blind. 

“So, I trust that Fullmetal has informed you of what exactly it is we are asking of you, if you should accept our offer,” General Mustang begins without much preamble, folding his hands in front of him as Lieutenant Albatross starts taking notes. 

“Yes,” she replies, sneaking glances at Albatross and trying to make out from expression alone if what she’s writing down is positive or not. “Ed told me your old automail mechanic is going to retire soon and that you’re looking to replace him with someone new.”

“Indeed,” Mustang agrees, tapping his pointer fingers against one another. “We would ask you to work here full-time for at least six-months before assessing your work and considering you for a full position as the military’s official automail mechanic. Captain Whitworth wishes to retire in about a year, so that should give us plenty of time to consider you or any other new recruits.”

Nodding slowly, Winry slips her hands under her thighs.

“And when would you expect me to make a decision? I’m still not entirely sure I want to move here for six months, let alone for longer than that.” She knows it might be a risk, being so forward about her reservations, but for some reason she feels she can be honest with the general. Maybe it’s because he protected Ed and Al for years, or maybe it’s because Lieutenant Hawkeye trusts him enough to die for him. In any case, she relaxes ever so slightly when she sees him smile.

“Of course, we would like you to make a decision as soon as possible, just in case we need to start looking for other candidates, but I’ve seen your work first-hand, not just on Fullmetal. I believe we would do well to give you a special trial period of at least a month.” Mustang’s deep voice sounds confident that she will say yes, and Winry doesn’t prickle at it. She knows that if he didn’t believe her worth the effort, she wouldn’t be having this interview. “I would ask that you work with Captain Whitworth for at least two weeks before taking on your own cases for an additional two. After that time,” he spreads his hands, ”we can discuss your future with our military. Together.”

It’s an undeniably generous offer.

“What about pay?”

He smiles and gestures to Lieutenant Albatross.

“Lieutenant, the preliminary contract, please,” he says, and Albatross leans across her desk to hand Winry the stapled-together pile of papers.

“You will find your initial salary for the first month on page six, followed by the pay for the additional five on page 8, as well as the final salary on page ten, should you decide to stay on permanently,” Albatross explains as Winry tries not to look too eager to see the amount of cens she might be making off this gig. Usually, she gets paid on a case by case basis. She negotiates rates not just on the amount of hours worked, but also by the income of the person she’s working with. She’s never had a steady income before. 

Her eyes almost bug out of her head when she sees the final rate.

“Um,” she says dumbly, staring down at the number on page six before going over to page eight. Again, her eyes widen. “Is this-- I’ve never--” She glances back and forth between Mustang and Albatross. “Is this a normal starter rate?” She knows Ed never had issues with money, but he started off as a  _ State Alchemist. _ She’s going to be a  _ mechanic _ \- one for automail, but still. There were limits to these things, surely? She doesn’t even dare to look at the final amount on page ten. 

Winry rarely feels out of her depth, having been raised by Pinako Rockbell, but she distinctly feels the difference between sweet Resembool, Central Amestris and even Rush Valley. 

“Again, I have seen your work,” General Mustang states confidently. “And I know you have reservations. Of course, this is hardly what Captain Whitworth earns in a year, but he’s been with the military for over three decades. There’s more yet to come if you’re willing to work with us, Miss Rockbell.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, closing the contract.

“You do not have to sign today. Please, take until the end of the week to make your decision. And please read our contract carefully. There are perks to working for the state, but there are also obligations that come with it, as well as rules that need to be followed.” Mustang leans back in his chair. “If you agree, I would ask one of my lieutenants to show you around the base and introduce you to Captain Whitworth. I know he’s looking forward to making your acquaintance. He is quite taken with Fullmetal’s remaining automail.”

For the first time since Ed told her about this job opening, Winry feels like she might actually say yes to it. 

“I would love that,” she says, meaning every word. Maybe, if this goes well, if it ends up as great as Mustang is making it sound, she might honestly attempt to uproot her Granny from Resembool. Maybe. She will definitely bring Den.

But she knows she’s getting ahead of herself.

“Thank you for this opportunity, General Mustang.” 

She, too, reclines a little.

“No need to thank me. Fullmetal is the one who recommended you, after all.” There’s a sparkle in his smile that Winry recognizes as mischief, because she’s seen it enough times on Ed’s face. “Besides, it’s about time someone else starts up with us who knows how to reign him in.”

She laughs.

-

When Winry leaves Mustang’s office, her chest feels about a thousand times less heavy, and she smiles even at a surly looking Ed, who’s no longer sitting in Lieutenant Hawkeye’s chair. Instead, he’s leaning next to the front door of the big office, clearly pouting about Hawkeye having ruined his fun with her furniture.

“You took an age getting done in there,” he grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest and his bottom lip dangerously close to sticking out. Winry doesn’t even find it within herself to be annoyed with him as she waves her contract around.

“Perfection takes time,” she says, placing her left hand on her hip. “And General Mustang makes for much better company than you.”

Ed rolls his eyes as the four male soldiers around him snigger.

“Brat,” Ed murmurs to himself. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Winry sees Lieutenant Hawkeye shake her head in fond amusement at their bickering, and Winry’s cheeks fill with blood ever so slightly. She doesn’t usually feel self-conscious about expressing herself, but this is different. Next to Lieutenant Hawkeye, she feels more like a gangly teen than anything else.

Ed’s squawking radio calling his name pulls Winry out of her embarrassed musings.

“Yes, sir,” he says, pressing the radio to his ear. “Of course, sir… With General Mustang’s unit, sir.” Having Ed be so deferential to someone is weird, and Winry has to remind herself that while Ed still carries the Fullmetal Alchemist title as a nickname, he  _ isn’t _ a State Alchemist anymore. Now, he has to follow certain rules just like any other soldier in their military with a superior officer. Just like Winry will be forced to, if she decides to go through with this job idea. She’s not yet sure how she feels about that - she’s famously bad at taking orders. But if Ed can do it… well.

Winry Rockbell is nothing if not adaptable.

Once the conversation is done, Ed pins the radio back to his shoulder and throws Winry’s duffle bag at her. The innards clank around a little, and Winry has half a mind to reprimand him for his carelessness.

“I need to bounce,” he says, placing his hands at the waist of his uniform. “Captain Umbra needs me for something and I don’t want to keep her waiting. You can find your own way out, right?”

A sigh leaves Winry’s mouth. Of course. Ed never sticks in one place for very long. 

“You just have to tell me where to go at the end of the day,” she says, copying Hawkeye’s earlier movement and leaning her hip against the lieutenant’s desk. “I’m sure I’ll find something to distract myself with.”

His blank stare is less than encouraging.

“Where to go?” he asks dumbly, and she rubs her forehead with her hand.

“Yes, Ed, where to go to _sleep_ later. Or did you think I was going to sleep at the office?” She feels as though she’s lost some of her ability to deal with him when he’s so damn slow on the uptake, or maybe the military has just been dumbing him down more than usual.

“Oh,” he says, suddenly seeming about as short as his sixteen-year old self. “Right.”

Her eyelid twitches.

“I guess you can come to the barracks with me,” he says finally, slowly, glancing sideways at Second Lieutenant Havoc, who seems suspiciously busy with his paperwork all of a sudden.

Winry feels heat rise into her face as she slowly realizes what’s going on.

“You,” she starts, her head feeling like a boiling kettle that’s set to explode any second. “You invited me here and you didn’t think about where I was going to stay?” She grips the duffle bag in her hands, the corner of her mouth twitching ever more violently. “Ed, you absolute-!”

Before she can decide on an appropriate insult, a hand on her shoulder settles her right back down.

“You can stay with me,” a gentle voice says.

Lieutenant Hawkeye’s smile is warm and inviting, making Winry’s heart beat faster for an entirely different reason.

“No, Lieutenant, I couldn’t possibly,” Winry tries to deflect, whipping her head back towards Ed when she sees him trying to sneak sideways out of the room. “I’m not done with you!”

His  _ eep _ of fear is satisfying.

“No, please, I insist,” Hawkeye says more firmly. “I have a couch that folds into a bed and more than enough space. And my apartment is  _ clean. _ I can’t promise the same of the barracks.”

“I’d take her up on her offer,” Havoc says with a chuckle, crumbling up a piece of paper before chucking it at Ed’s head. “I’ve stayed at the barracks, and whatever Hawkeye’s place looks like right now, it can only be an improvement.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye’s smile doesn’t waver, and behind her, Winry sees Captain Falman give her a thumb’s up of approval. With some hesitation, Winry loosens the grip she has on her belongings and swallows down her reservations. 

“I guess it would be okay. Just for a day or two!” She throws another glare at Ed. “Just until Ed can be bothered to find someone else for me to stay with.”

“You can stay for as long as it takes for you to find your footing in the city.” Hawkeye sits back down and beckons for Winry to stash her duffle beneath her desk. “Lord knows, I stayed with my friend Rebecca for longer than I care to admit.”

“That’s because Rebecca was the Lieutenant’s  _ girlfriend,” _ Havoc whispers dramatically behind his hand, though before he’s quite finished Hawkeye loudly clears her throat.

“My shift here finishes at six. You can meet me out front and we can walk together.” Hawkeye’s cheeks are dusted with pink, if Winry isn’t mistaken, and the fact that the Lieutenant is interested in women only fuels Winry’s admiration of her. 

_ So cool, _ she thinks to herself, finally getting a move on and pushing her duffle down and under the desk. “Thank you so much,” she says breathlessly, bowing deeply before Hawkeye. “You’re a lifesaver, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye tries to wave her off, but Winry thinks the smile on the lieutenant’s face is sincere when she sends her away to explore the city for a few hours. 

Ed tries to tease her as soon as they’re out of the office, but Winry isn’t bothered.

Not when her thoughts are so full of the lieutenant’s kind eyes and warm hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops, guess Ed forgot to find a place for Winry to stay... how... inconvenient........
> 
> please lemme know how you feel about the start! i'm already done with this fic and will be updating it probably like once or twice a week
> 
> If you want to support me, find me on Tumblr at goshdarnitjay
> 
> Thanks to Coara for betaing this thing!! love u, boo ♥


	2. useless soldiers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a cold and i am so tired someone put me out of my misery my sore throat is killing me
> 
> hope you enjoy

Central City is big. 

Winry is aware of this on an intellectual level.

She’s even been to a few places around town before, but when she leaves Central Command today, she spends a few seconds just standing around and taking in the traffic sprawling out in front of her. 

She thinks about what she particularly wants to do and comes up empty. She has a little under two hours to kill with absolutely no idea where to go or who to talk to.

With a sigh, she sticks her hands into the pockets of her jacket and descends the stairs to the main street below, figuring she might as well find a phone booth and call her Granny. She probably doesn’t need to tell her again what a hopeless case Ed still is when it comes to thinking about anything other than his job, but she doesn’t really have much else going on. 

Since Ed is no longer obsessing over alchemy and the recovery of Al's body, the reinvention of Amestris has become his new passion. And while Winry loves him for his determination, she wishes he had space in his mind for the trivial things in life. Like making sure she has a decent place to sleep that isn't the floor of his dorm room.

More sighs escape her.

Poor Lieutenant Hawkeye. 

With Al in Xing, Winry only has one hothead to worry about. She can't imagine how annoying the lieutenant's life must be with so many stupid men around her at all times, all trying to sacrifice their lives for one another while she keeps them alive. Winry doesn't envy the woman for her place in Mustang's unit.

Against her will, her thoughts circle back to the lieutenant's gentle smiles and encouraging words. To the way blonde curls fall around those deep, brown eyes. The slope of soft lips as they wind themselves around Winry's last name.

The sigh that follows this time is less annoyed and more smitten. She isn't a school girl anymore, but this sure feels like a silly crush.

It's juvenile, and she shakes her head at herself until the image of Lieutenant Hawkeye's hand reaching out to hold Winry's own disappears from her mind's eye. 

Once she reaches the end of the stairs, her focus is back on calling Granny.

Mostly.

-

Winry’s butt cheeks barely have time to grow cold on the huge stone steps in front of Central Command when she’s passed by black boots and a shadow falls over her body. She looks up from the city plan she purchased at one of the tourist stops close-by and smiles at Lieutenant Hawkeye, who has Winry’s duffle bag slung over one shoulder.

It’s barely past six and though Lieutenant Hawkeye seems perfectly calm, Winry thinks she must have hurried from the office to be here so soon after shift’s end, just to ensure Winry didn’t have to wait for longer than absolutely necessary. It’s a nice thought.

“Ready to go?” Hawkeye asks, holding out her now glove-clad hand to offer Winry the option of pulling herself to her feet with the lieutenant’s help. Not for the first time, she ponders on the misnaming of the world gentle _ man.  _

“Yes, thank you.” Not one to pass up the opportunity for some contact with a woman she admires, Winry accepts the lieutenant’s hand after stuffing the city map in the shopping bag at her side. “And thank you again, so much, for taking me in.”

Hawkeye shakes her head, her grip firm but not crushing as she supports Winry getting to her feet. 

“I know Sergeant Elric’s head is in the clouds on the best of days.” She takes a step away and motions for Winry to follow her. “Plus, my apartment isn’t far from Central Command and I think you’ll be much more inclined to stay with the military if you have a good roof over your head for the time being. And we’ll all be much better off for it if you start working with us.”

There’s a glint in her eyes that Winry hasn’t seen before, and she laughs a little, before twirling a strand of her own hair again.

“I see, so your offer is entirely self-serving, then?” 

They start walking at a steady but comfortable pace.

“Of course,” Hawkeye replies, though Winry doesn’t believe her for a second. She wonders if there’s a single self-serving bone in the lieutenant’s body.

-

It takes almost five minutes of comfortable silence for Winry to notice that the lieutenant is still carrying her luggage for her. When she tries to reach for it, Hawkeye gives her a confused little look that reminds Winry of Den whenever she tries to take a toy away from her.

“I just think you’re already doing so much for me, I can’t ask you to carry my things as well,” she tries to explain herself, pulling ineffectually at a corner of the duffle. She knows that the bag isn’t particularly light, either. After all, aside from some changes of clothes, it’s mostly stuffed with unfinished automail projects and some specific tools she didn’t have the heart to leave in Resembool. 

“It’s really no bother. Trust me, I’ve been asked to carry much heavier things in the line of duty. And we’re almost to my apartment.” 

Silently, inwardly, Winry burns with the quiet wish that Ed had never been born so she wouldn’t have to endure this awkwardness. It would have been so much easier to simply sleep somewhere Ed had intended for her to sleep and to watch Lieutenant Hawkeye from afar without drawing constant attention to herself.

That pipsqueak was going to pay hell for putting her through this.

“If you like, you could help me walk Black Hayate and White Rakurai. They get bored during the day when I’m at work and they’re very energetic.” A flush of pleasure spreads across Lieutenant Hawkeye’s face at the thought of her dogs, and Winry notes again just how pretty the lieutenant looks in certain moments. “But only if you’re in the mood for leaving the house again. I know taking the train up from Resembool can be quite a journey. Especially if it’s during the middle of the week.”

“No, no, I’m not tired at all.” A lie that was about as white as Den’s black fur. “Plus, I’m going to miss my dog like crazy, so I’m very much looking forward to spending time with yours.” They turned a corner. “Last I heard, you’d been blessed with puppies. Were you able to find them good homes?”

Hawkeye laughs and runs a hand through the hair that lingers on her forehead.

“Just barely, which is why I’ve had them both neutered since then. Puppies once is fine, but I can’t support five dogs in my apartment. And you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to find good dog owners among soldiers. Not to mention how many of them live in the dorms and aren’t allowed to keep pets in the first place.” Hawkeye’s hand disappears into the pocket of her uniform jacket and pulls out a bundle of keys, before cycling through them until she’s found the right one. “Did you ever have a puppy surprise?”

Winry shakes her head, feeling temporarily on sturdier footing now that they’re talking about a topic she feels more comfortable with. They continue to discuss their dogs as they make their way into Hawkeye’s apartment building and towards the elevator. 

“Honestly, keeping Den’s automail clean can be a bit of a nightmare. She loves digging in the backyard while Granny pretends to garden to pass the time. Not to mention all the bugs and spiders that think it’s a great place to set up shop.” Winry leans against the wall next to the front door to Hawkeye’s apartment and lets out a sigh while she waits for the other woman to unlock the door. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the light of day where Den’s automail would cause more trouble than Ed’s in the maintenance department.”

With a chuckle, Hawkeye opens the door and beckons Winry inside with a quick nod of her head. “I’ve heard stories of how often you had to rebuild the Sergeant’s right arm from scratch after a particularly tough battle. And I was always particularly impressed by how quickly you managed to restore it as well.” 

The praise brings a fresh wave of pleasure to Winry’s cheeks as she frantically tries to wave it off.

“All in a day’s work, all in a day’s work. And you wouldn’t believe how much Ed would have whined if I’d taken even a second longer to finish it.” She brings a hand to her flaming cheek, flapping the other around in the air as though trying to swat away a particularly annoying fly. 

She’s saved from spewing any more justifications by the two dogs that emerge from further in the apartment. Their fur looks shiny and soft and Winry’s heart immediately melts when they come up to her to snuffle around her feet.

“Lieutenant, you forgot to mention how absolutely adorable they are,” she coos, before falling to her knees and scratching the black dog behind its right ear. “Who’s a good boy, hm?” The dog lets its tongue loll out of its mouth, its tail swishing across the hardwood floor of the apartment.

“As you might have guessed, the little attention seeker there is Black Hayate,” Hawkeye says with a chuckle as she sets Winry’s duffle bag onto the coffee table in front of the couch. The white dog next to Black Hayate rubs its nose against Winry’s free hand and she feels guilt-free about taking up the lieutenant’s time for the first time since agreeing to stay here. “And that one is White Rakurai. They’re both very well-trained, so if you want, you can take them with you around the city whenever I’m at work.”

Crouching down next to Winry and the dogs, Lieutenant Hawkeye holds out her hand and waits for White Rakurai to place her paw in it. “Good girl, Raku. This is Miss Winry Rockbell. She’ll be staying with us for a few days, so you two need to be extra good so that she’ll want to stay in Central City with us.” 

Winry knows that when Hawkeye talks about staying with them, she means the military, but a fantasy elbows itself into her mind of her staying in this apartment with Hawkeye and her dogs on a more permanent basis. She hides her flaming face in Black Hayate’s fur.

“If I decide to go back to Resembool, it definitely won’t be because of you and these lovelies, Lieutenant Hawkeye,” she mumbles, face growing ever hotter when she hears Hawkeye’s laugh.

“Well, still, you can’t blame us for trying to sway your opinion.” 

Another squeeze of her shoulder makes Winry look up.

“I’ll get out of uniform so we can walk these two. I’ll set up the couch so you can get some rest after. We could get take-out on the walk, if you like? As a soldier, my cooking skills are adequate, but they’re nothing special.” 

“Sounds great,” Winry replies, absentmindedly holding out her hand for Black Hayate to place his paw into, mimicking Hawkeye’s earlier movements. “As long as I get to pay for my share of the take-out.”

Again, the lieutenant laughs.

“We’ll see.”

-

Winry is unprepared for seeing Lieutenant Hawkeye out of uniform. 

In all honesty, while the blue garbs that all soldiers wear in Amestris aren’t particularly form-fitting, their coloring makes them pleasant to look at it Winry’s opinion. But she never could have imagined that they do Hawkeye’s physique such a disservice.

The woman’s legs are encased in skin-tight blue jeans, showing off muscular thighs and strong calves that move in dangerously attractive ways as she walks. Which isn’t to say that Winry isn’t equally impressed with the lieutenant’s biceps and shoulders, left bare by a sleeveless black top that exposes far more skin than Winry knows what to do with. The top is a turtleneck, cleverly concealing the long scar Winry knows to be on the left side of the lieutenant’s neck. 

Her blonde hair has been taken out of its restrictive updo as well, framing her face beautifully on both sides. 

Hawkeye carries a white leather jacket in her left hand, slung over her shoulder and only making her bicep stand out that much more attractively, while she has two leashes in her right. When she whistles, her two dogs look over to her, and upon seeing the leashes they quickly trot over to the front door and sit, their thumping tails the only things about them that move once they’re settled.

“How did you train them to be that well-behaved?” Winry asks, proud of herself for not stuttering in the presence of so much raw sex appeal. “Den still bowls over Ed whenever he comes home to visit.”

Hawkeye smirks a little as she hands Winry one of the leashes.

“Trial by gunfire,” she replies with a wink, before crouching down next to Black Hayate, who obediently holds out his neck for her. She doesn’t elaborate further, and Winry doesn’t pry. And anyway, she’s far too busy not dropping the leash with her shaky fingers.

-

It’s dark in the apartment now, and Winry tries to make out shapes on the ceiling as she absentmindedly strokes Black Hayate behind his ears. 

Lieutenant Hawkeye offered to lock both dogs in her bedroom so they wouldn’t bother Winry as she slept, but Winry quickly put a stop to that entire train of thought. First, she doesn’t want to impose on the lieutenant’s routine more than absolutely necessary, and second, she’s actually secretly glad that one of Hawkeye’s dogs has come by to cuddle with her. Den usually sleeps at the foot of her bed when she’s home, unless she feels more like sleeping on her own on the floor. Besides, it’s nice to hear another living being’s breathing close-by, keeping her tethered to the world and out of any unpleasant thoughts this late into the evening.

Although Winry’s brain keeps trying to trick her into thinking she can hear Lieutenant Hawkeye shift in her bed down the hall, rustling the sheets in an all too tempting-sounding way. She doesn’t know how big the lieutenant’s bed is, but ever since they’ve both called it a night - after Hawkeye was done folding out the couch for her - she’s been working very hard not to imagine slipping out from under this comfortable and fluffy blanket to see just how comfortable and fluffy the lieutenant’s is. Especially while she is in it.

Winry slaps a hand to her face.

“Useless,” she whispers to herself in the darkness. “Useless lesbian.”

Black Hayate lets out a particularly loud huff at her words.

-

Quiet rummaging sounds from somewhere close-by draw Winry out of the weird dream she’s been having. She’s not sure exactly why White Rakurai was three-feet tall, but the image lingers in her mind as she groans softly and turns towards the noise.

There is light coming from somewhere off to her right, and she pushes herself up ever so slightly on her elbow, a quiet “Wha?” leaving her mouth, before some more shuffling is followed quickly by a steady hand pushing her back down to the couch.

“Go back to sleep,” a gentle voice says, drawing a soft smile to Winry’s lips. “I need to be in the office at seven today, but you can get some more shut-eye.” 

Winry is pretty sure she has no idea what the other person is saying, but the palm on her shoulder is soft and warm and she brings up her hand to curl around a starched cuff smelling like laundry detergent.

“Lieut-ent,” Winry slurs sleepily, pressing her cheek against the back of Hawkeye’s hand. 

A chuckle penetrates Winry’s mind, before her fingers are gently loosened from the lieutenant’s cuff and a blanket is pulled up to her neck. 

“Feel free to stay here all day, if you want. Or to go out. I put a key to the apartment on the counter and left you some instructions as to Haya and Raku. Take whatever you want from the kitchen.” More words are spoken, but Winry doesn’t listen to them. The cadence is nice, though, and the sound lulls her back to sleep. 

The second time she wakes, memories immediately flood Winry’s cortex, and she sits up so quickly and abruptly that White Rakurai startles and almost slips off the couch. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers, pressing both hands to her cheeks and quickly checking to make sure she’s alone. “Oh my  _ god.” _ Her face burns with shame as she remembers in excruciating detail how her sleepy self had acted. She covers her eyes, trying to suppress the memory of her cheek on the lieutenant’s hand. Or how dopey her smile must have been. “I need to move out. I need to leave the city. No, the country.”

She’s had a good run, she thinks to herself. She’s made a name for herself in the automail community; she’s made some friends along the way. But now, it is time to go. 

Maybe Al will accept her in Xing. If not, she can always try her luck elsewhere.

She’s pulled out of her embarrassment by a dog tongue licking across her hands. “Oh, I know,” she whines as she drops them and rubs Black Hayate under his chin. “I’ll miss you, too. I’d send you a postcard, but that would defeat the purpose of disappearing in the first place.”

She presses a kiss in between his eyes, before slumping back down and rubbing her forehead.

Maybe she’s being just a little bit overdramatic.

Lieutenant Hawkeye will chalk up her weirdly intimate behavior to the traveling delirium, surely. Just as long as Winry never brings it up ever again, she should be fine. And as long as she’s awake before seven every morning from now on. Or eight. Or nine. Depending on what time in the morning the lieutenant will be required to go into work.

She makes a mental note to memorize Lieutenant Hawkeye’s schedule to avoid further indiscretions.

A glance at the clock reveals that it’s barely nine in the morning, meaning she probably has about six or seven hours to kill by herself before the lieutenant gets back from work, unless she plans on doing overtime, which is also entirely possible. 

She remembers the instructions about Black Hayate and White Rakurai on the counter and decides to heave her sorry ass off the couch and start her day with that. She doesn’t want to let down Hawkeye when it comes to her  _ pets. _ That would not be a good way to show her gratitude.

As she walks barefoot across the hardwood floor, she finally takes in the decor of the apartment. Whenever Lieutenant Hawkeye was around the night before, Winry was working too hard on not being weird around her. That didn't help with the perception of her surroundings one bit. 

Her hands glide over the counter towards the piece of paper while she studies the small personal touches all over the place. The most obvious observation is that the space isn't stuffed to the brim with ornaments and trinkets, which doesn't surprise her. The lieutenant doesn't seem like the sentimental type who would hoard things she doesn't really need. The area that's most crowded with stuff is the open trunk full of dog toys in the corner, and it brings a smile to her face.

Still, the place isn't overly tidy, either. There are books strewn across the coffee table, and a few lone dishes stacked in the sink. There are gun cleaning supplies on the counter next to this morning's newspaper and a few select pictures and postcards stuck to the fridge with magnets. Overall, it feels… comfortable. Lived in. Like a place Winry could see herself in someday, when she's settled enough to have her own.

Her fingers twirl the set of keys that Hawkeye has left her as she finally reads the instructions, only to realize it's more of a letter than anything else.

"Dear Miss Rockbell," she repeats, running the pointer finger of her right hand over the neat handwriting of her name. She wouldn't mind it at all if the lieutenant called her by her first name, but she doubts that the suggestion would take her very far. "If you want to make Haya and Raku fall in love with you, you can feed them a few of the treats we keep at the very back in the topmost drawer of the cupboard." 

At the word treats, two pairs of dog ears suddenly become visible over the back of the couch. The sight is enough to kick Winry out of whatever leftover embarrassment she might have felt about acting like a gay buffoon while mostly asleep. If anything, the lieutenant must be used to people making a fool of themselves around her.

She puts down the letter and whistles innocently as she shuffles over to the cupboard.

Time to melt some doggy hearts.

-

Leaning her cheeks against her fists and with her elbows on the counter, Winry stares down at the contract she's pulled from her duffle. The official jargon of the  _ obligations _ and  _ rules _ General Mustang talked about the previous day are already starting to give her a headache. And the worst part is that Winry knows she could just ask the lieutenant to explain the finer details to her later, but the thought alone piles yet more guilt onto her shoulders. Of course the lieutenant wouldn't mind helping her, but she's already been so generous, Winry feels like she needs to do something to make up for it somehow. Anything. 

Blowing air out of her nose until she can hear the rattle of her lungs, Winry contemplates if she could get away with bringing the lieutenant lunch without it seeming overbearing. She does have the excuse that Mustang promised her to have someone show her around the automail shop… 

"What do you think, White Rakurai," Winry asks loudly, her voice sounding a bit off from the way she's pushing her cheeks into her knuckles. "Do you think your mother would like it if I brought her lunch?" To her great disappointment, the white dog simply rolls onto her back on the couch and lets out an adorable little yawn. "That's what I thought you'd say."

She looks back down to the contract and studies the section she  _ thinks _ is about new technologies and advancements. If she understands it correctly, then signing this contract means the military will claim ownership of any new invention or improvement she comes up with, and that doesn't sit well with her. The thought of being so beholden to an institution that her very ideas cease to be her own scares her. Her ideas have always belonged to her. Even during her time at Rush Valley, Garf never intruded upon her creations, and they'd both kept a firm line between their projects even while she considered herself his apprentice.

Her forehead comes to rest on the piece of paper, her fingers going once more to the bundle of keys left by Hawkeye. Having something to play with is good. Distracting. 

Her stomach rumbles and Winry recognizes that she can't avoid looking into the lieutenant's food stores forever, so she gets off the chair she's been sitting on and takes a hesitant step towards the refrigerator door. Her right index finger strokes just along the bottom of a photograph of Lieutenant Hawkeye cloaked in a heavy military-issue jacket, snow covering the wide expanse behind her. Winry recognizes the sparse piece of architecture in the frame as Fort Briggs, and smiles as she imagines the stoic General Armstrong meeting the equally-stoic Lieutenant.

As expected, the lieutenant's fridge is sparsely-stocked with only the bare-minimum. She sees eggs, milk, some vegetables in a bottom drawer and an assortment of condiments. Most of them different kinds of mustard.

Winry shakes her head.

_ Soldiers, _ she thinks.  _ Useless. _

Tapping her fingers against the door, she picks up two eggs and makes another grab for a packet of cheese once she's put them down on the kitchen counter space next to the sink. The milk follows, as well as an onion.

She's almost closed the fridge when she looks back at the contract again. No matter how uncomfortable it makes her, she will have to speak to the lieutenant about some of the more complicated aspects of this arrangement. Asking Ed is out of the question. He'd just laugh at her. And it wouldn't feel right to ask General Mustang. She supposes she could ask Captain Falman, who was very nice when they were all stuck together at Fort Briggs.

She looks at the three remaining eggs and the leftover onion. 

"Why not." 

Her mumbled words float around in her brain a few more times as she plugs Hawkeye's small radio into the socket and starts looking for a bowl to crack the eggs into.

Why not indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White Rakurai means White Lightning - thought it'd be a fitting companion name for Black Hayate / Black Hurricane
> 
> hope you liked it! our kids are getting closer! if you did like it, it'd be cool if you dropped a comment ♥
> 
> thanks to my beta Coara for betaing this last minute - a true hero to the people
> 
> if you want to support me, find me on tumblr @goshdarnitjay
> 
> now please, leave me be, as i need to prepare for my imminent demise ...


	3. she sure is something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am no longer dealing with a cold! huzzah! i must no longer suffer
> 
> unlike winry, who will forever suffer because riza is so cool
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Again, Winry is surprised at just how well-behaved the lieutenant's dogs are as she strolls through the streets of Central City. They don't pull on their leashes, they don't bark at other dogs and they certainly don't poo on anything Winry hasn't specifically indicated as a spot worth pooing on. 

In a weird way, it makes her ache for Den, who is a perfect little storm in all her imperfections. 

The only time Winry feels the smallest bit of tension on the leash is when the dogs spot Major Armstrong getting out of a car. Their tails  _ thwup  _ against Winry's legs intensely enough that it would feel cruel to deny them.

"Major!" she calls out towards him, feeling a happy warmth spread through her at the way his eyes sparkle when they spot her.

"Miss Winry Rockbell! Accompanied by Lieutenant Hawkeye's most beloved companions!" He hurries over to her and bows low, while Black Hayate and White Rakurai try to catch his face for slobbery dog kisses. "Such a pleasure."

"The lieutenant was kind enough to let me crash at her place while I get settled," she explains as the major crouches down so the dogs can stop wiggling their butts in happy anticipation and instead get to work on covering every bit of his face in slobber. 

Immediately, tears glisten in the man's face and he brings a fist to his chest.

"Of course," he asserts strongly despite his emotional state. "Wherever a person is in trouble, Lieutenant Hawkeye offers her support without reservation." His flow of tears is lapped up by Black Hayate, who seems quite taken with the salty liquid. "What an honorable soldier in spite of everything she has had to endure." He hugs the dogs close to his chest. "A true hero to the people."

Winry chuckles. "She really is." 

The tears disappear from his face as quickly as they've come, and after a quick wipe of his face with his thick forearm, he rises back up to his full height. He clears his throat behind his fist.

"May I accompany you inside, Miss Rockbell?" He holds out his arm for her, and she smiles brightly as she takes it.

"Certainly, Major. I would love nothing more." 

Together, they ascend the stairs to Central Command, with Hawkeye's dogs obediently trailing along next to them.

At least that solves the problem of finding her way around the building.

-

This time, the door to the office of Mustang's special unit is already open, and Winry feels a little bit sheepish as she peeks inside to find Lieutenant Hawkeye's upper body hunched over a desk and obviously focused very intensely on some difficult paperwork. She almost turns back around to go the same way she came, when Major Armstrong claps her loudly on the shoulder and bellows out his words of departure.

The strength of his pat is nearly enough to make her stumble.

"Miss Rockbell," Hawkeye says with some surprise, although she doesn't seem displeased at Winry's sudden appearance at her place of work. 

"Hi," Winry says quickly, sheepishly advancing on the lieutenant's desk while Major Armstrong saunters away. A quick glance around her reveals that the rest of the office is empty, so at least no one else will be witness to her impropriety. "Where's the rest of your motley crew?"

"Out to lunch. It's the only time I can get anything done around here." Still, contrary to her words, Hawkeye doesn't seem too busy to wave her over and gesture to the seat in front of her work station. "What brings you around today? You want the tour?" She leans back a little in her chair and allows herself a stretch. "I can't leave my post right now, but the others shouldn't be too much longer. One of them won't mind taking the time."

"Yeah, yep, that's why I'm here," Winry says quickly, as she allows the two dogs to circle the desk and greet Hawkeye. "Figured I would get an early start on figuring out how this whole military thing works."

With Hawkeye distracted, Winry casually slides the closed plastic box onto the desk. 

"Hm?" Hawkeye hums away from Black Hayate as he enjoys her cheek rubs, while White Rakurai is content with resting her head on the lieutenant's knee. "What's in there?" 

"Nothing much," Winry hurries, pushing the box a little closer. "I had a few leftovers this morning and I thought a light snack at work couldn't hurt." She pulls out a fork. "But only if you want to. I can take it back to the apartment."

Hawkeye eyes her for a moment, expression unreadable, before shaking her head.

"I told you you don't have to thank me," she says as she pulls the lid off the box to reveal the small but perfectly circular and stacked omelettes inside. "I don't expect you to cook for me to earn your keep. My offer is entirely without conditions."

"They're just leftovers!" Winry insists, her cheeks pinking. 

"Of course," Hawkeye replies teasingly, picking up the fork and stabbing one of the omelettes with it, before taking a healthy bite. "These are very good. Thank you." She brings a hand to her mouth so Winry can't see her chew. "I'll have to guard these from the others. If they see them, you'll be asked to bring buckets of food to work." She doesn't hesitate to finish the rest of the omelette before starting in on a second. 

They spend the next twenty minutes making companionable small talk, and Winry feels more than vindicated when the lieutenant looks disappointed at having finished her meal. Quietly, she wonders when the last time was that someone thought to bring her a snack like this during the day. 

She doesn't utter the question. She doesn't want to add another embarrassing conversation to her list of reasons for having to leave the country. This morning's looming shadow is bad enough.

-

"And this is the best place to have a cigarette indoors, 'cause the vents suck the smoke right up," Second Lieutenant Havoc offers happily as he rolls his wheelchair in the room.

"I don't smoke," Winry says politely, thinking to herself that the room actually smells quite unpleasant. Havoc sighs and shrugs at her.

"I'm not surprised, but always disappointed. You know, my new girlfriend has been trying to get me to quit lately. Says it isn't very healthy for the ol' back injury. But really." He scoffs as he rolls back out again, Winry following after him with her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans. "I think she's just jealous of how cool I look when I do it." He pats the packet of cigarettes in the left breast pocket of his uniform.

"I'm not entirely sure she'd see eye to eye with you on that, sir," Winry tries diplomatically, wishing she still had Black Hayate and White Rakurai with her so she would have their leashes to fidget with as they slowly make their way to the military's automail shop and Captain Whitworth. Havoc keeps a good tempo on his wheelchair, but he tends to drift off in his storytelling when it comes to specific events that took place in certain corridors or rooms that Winry is pretty sure she will have forgotten as soon as they've rounded the next corner.

"Probably not," Havoc agrees, sending her an unperturbed smile. "In all honesty, I think it's sweet how much she cares. Makes a man feel appreciated to be fussed over. Though I'd imagine women don't feel much different, there." He comes to a stop next to a big and heavy metal door. "Please try not to scream when ol' Whitworth realizes who you are and comes at you waving his giant wrench. He gets very excited about his work."

"I'll try my very best." Secretly, Winry is vibrating with excitement at the prospect of someone else caring about automail as much as she does. At least she won't have to feel weird about geeking out around the captain. This is one thing she can put down as a good omen.

-

Captain Whitworth is a tall and muscular man with graying black hair, a thick mustache, and several studs in his left ear. He's also the first person at Central Command she's seen without his uniform jacket on. It's slung over a chair in the corner, its absence revealing an oil-stained white t-shirt that stretches over Whitworth's barreled chest.

"Lieutenant Havoc, what brings me the pleasure of seeing you today?" he asks, his right hand indeed curled around a very big wrench. His eyes gaze thoughtfully at Winry, who's trying the hardest she ever has to make a good first expression without going crazy about automail. 

_ Yet. _

"Captain, this is Winry Rockbell, the person we're considering as your successor. I believe General Mustang mentioned--" Havoc barely has time to wheel out of the way so he isn't bowled over by Whitworth's enthusiasm.

"Winry Rockbell!" he repeats loudly, stepping forward to clasp Winry's hand in between both of his. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth grow ever more prominent as he smiles down at her, his obvious excitement making him look ten years younger than before. "I have been looking forward to making your acquaintance!" He moves Winry's hand up and down in a handshake and she finally lets go of her emotions and returns the shake equally as fervently.

"Likewise, Captain! Lieutenant Hawkeye and General Mustang have told me so many great things about you and your work!" She eyes the many disparate automail parts strewn across the space, itching to take them into her own hands and start examining the particulars of Captain Whitworth’s work. “I would love to see your work with fiberglass.”

“Ta-da!” he says, before dropping both hands to his left pant leg and pulling it up to reveal a shiny automail limb. A loud  _ clank  _ echoes around the room as he swings the limb onto a nearby counter so Winry can look at it. “The finest fiberglass Amestris can offer. My very own design!”

Winry brings her fists to her mouth and gasps.

“Please, can I touch it?”

“Of course, I insist!”

Winry barely takes note of Lieutenant Havoc rolling his eyes good-naturedly and moving backwards and away from their mutual respect society happening right in front of him. “Guess I’m no longer needed at this party.” When he reaches the door, he wraps his knuckles against the doorframe, causing Winry and Captain Whitworth to look up from their geeking out. “Hawkeye says if you need anything, Miss Rockbell, just call up to our office.”

“Thank you!” Winry says quickly, waving until he’s gone. 

“He’s a good boy,” Captain Whitworth offers, his fingers reaching for a different automail attachment. “No luck so far on trying to convince him about trying automail enhancements to see if we can work on that spine of his.” He smiles ruefully as he elbows her arm. “Maybe you’ll have more luck, eh?”

She nods, though her attention is captured quickly by the intricacies of Whitworth’s automail.

-

With an intensity she rarely gives anything else, Winry watches Whitworth work on some custom decorations he’s been making for a fellow soldier.  _ You wouldn’t believe how picky soldiers can be about their aesthetics, _ he’d said. 

“That’s beautiful,” she whispers, leaning in even further so her chin is almost on the captain’s soldier. “And they’ll open and close all on their own?” She brings a gloved hand to the ornamental flowers on the limb. “That is beautiful.”

“I’ve been working on this piece for about three months. They’re hand-carved, you see. Takes its time, especially in between everything else.” Whitworth brings the limb closer to the light of his desk lamp and shows Winry the smallest, most detailed handiwork she’s seen in a long time.

Winry is about to ask for the schematics the captain uses so she can reach a more in-depth understanding of how exactly the gears and ornaments work together, when someone clears a throat behind them. Both she and Whitworth flinch as they turn around in unison. 

An amused Lieutenant Hawkeye is standing in the doorway, while her two dogs sit at her feet and look longingly at Winry, whomst they must suspect of hiding more treats. Which, of course, she is. 

“I don’t mean to ruin your fun, but it’s almost seven,” she says with a small smile, before sending Whitworth a salute. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant,” he replies warmly, putting down the automail limb. “Thank you for the wake-up call.” He pats Winry on the shoulder. “It’s so hard to stop when you find someone who’s of the same spirit at yourself.” The words spread warmth through Winry’s chest and she preens a little bit at the comparison Captain Whitworth draws between him and her. 

“Of course. I just wanted to inform Miss Rockbell that I’m heading home and to ask her if she would like to accompany me. But I don’t mean to interrupt if the two of you aren’t done.” She drops a hand to Black Hayate’s head, seemingly without really thinking about it. “I could come pick you up later so you don’t have to walk by yourself after it’s gone dark? If you wanted to stay.”

Her concern is so sweet it almost leaves Winry a little breathless. This woman hardly knows her, but she cares enough to go out of her way to accommodate her. 

“No, no, I’ll come home with you now. Thank you.” Winry hops off the stool she’s been sitting on and only just realizes her butt is actually kind of numb from being parked on it for so long. “I can come back tomorrow, can’t I?” She directs the question towards Whitworth, who smiles brightly.

“Please, Miss Rockbell, come by anytime you like. I’ll be back here at nine tomorrow.” He grabs her hand again and holds it gently. “I’m actually awaiting a new shipment of steel and fiberglass. New opportunities for even more beautiful work.” 

“That sounds wonderful, Captain,” she says sincerely. “I’ll bring some of my projects.”

She’s almost at the door, when Lieutenant Hawkeye frowns at Whitworth, who has gone back to the automail arm he was just showing Winry. “You should probably go home as well, Captain. I don’t want to have the same discussion with Richard again about your overtime at the next holiday function.” When Winry reaches her, she places a gentle, gloved hand on her elbow in greeting. It’s an innocuous touch, but the familiarity of it brings a flush to Winry’s cheeks.

“I won’t be too much longer, Lieutenant, I promise,” Whitworth says with a smile, before he shoos them out of the shop with a few waves of his large hands. “Now go, go. And take those adorable furballs with you, before I kidnap one of them.”

Hawkeye laughs.

“I’d like to see you try, Captain.”

-

They stop for just a few moments to make small talk with the receptionist, who insists on giving Lieutenant Hawkeye some of her grandmother’s homemade jam, before they finally leave the building at almost twenty past seven. 

“Who’s Richard?” Winry asks halfway down the stairs, plucking White Rakurai’s leash out of Hawkeye’s hand so she has something to fiddle with on the way to the apartment. Hanging out with someone else who loves automail like she does has made her itch to work on her own projects even more than usual. 

“Oh, he’s Captain Whitworth’s husband. Smart guy with a few doctorate degrees. He worries about the captain overextending himself at work.” Hawkeye allows Black Hayate a few moments of sniffing at the ground once they finally reach the bottom of the stairs. “In fact, I think he’s the one who finally convinced Captain Whitworth to retire. I don’t even want to know how much he had to argue with him about that.”

They turn the corner and stroll leisurely along the street, neither of them in any hurry.

“I know Richard has been wanting to visit Xing for a while, but emergencies keep getting in the way of their plans. Especially emergency surgeries.” Hawkeye shrugs. “Which is something you need to consider as well, if you decide to stay on with us. Personal plans will become a bit more difficult to maintain if you join the military, and it can place a strain on relationships.”

Winry sighs.

“You need a relationship first if you want to put a strain on it,” she says without thinking, before suddenly realizing who it is she’s speaking to. “N-Not that you need to worry about my romantic life, Lieutenant Hawkeye.” 

Hawkeye just chuckles, and Winry makes a mental note to pack a bag later and skedaddle in the middle of the night so she doesn’t have to face the memories of this conversation ever again. But then Black Hayate bumps her with his side and it wipes the thought away.

-

The next morning, Winry wakes up again when she hears Hawkeye puttering around her kitchen, but this time she’s prepared for it. Glancing at the clock from her position on the couch, she’s glad to see it’s a little later in the morning, roughly about seven thirty, and she stretches her arms over her head and lets out a mighty yawn to let the lieutenant know she’s awake.

“You’re up early,” Hawkeye calls over to her, and Winry almost chokes on her own spit when she sees that the lieutenant is still in the clothes she slept in. “I’m sorry I keep waking you up. I’m not used to having someone at the apartment.”

Blushing gently, Winry slides out from under White Rakurai’s sleepy body, and gets to her feet, feeling only slightly self-conscious about her own wardrobe. She gets hot during the night, no matter how many or how few blankets she uses, so she’s in a black, midriff-baring top and a small pair of blue shorts. For her part, Hawkeye is dressed in a dark brown t-shirt and a pair of long-legged pajama pants, and her hair clearly hasn’t yet been brushed. 

“I meant to get the coffee going as quietly as possible before taking a shower," Hawkeye says, running a hand through her unruly hair.

“It’s no problem.” Winry shuffles over to the counter and tries to smooth down her own hair with both hands. “It’s your apartment. You can be as loud as you want, I really don’t mind. I don’t want to intrude on your schedule any more than I have to.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Miss Rockbell,” Hawkeye says with a smile as she pours the coffee powder into the filter. "Would you like me to make you some coffee, too?" 

“Yes, please.” 

Winry shuffles onto one of the stools in front of the counter and watches Hawkeye as she sets about getting everything ready. “Alright. That’s that,” the woman mumbles to herself as the coffee starts dripping into the pot. “I’ll take a quick shower.”

A nod is the only thing Winry can muster as she tries not to imagine the lieutenant undressing behind a door just down the hall.

-

Saying goodbye to Black Hayate and White Rakurai is harder than Winry imagined. When she sees the two looking at her from the couch with those big, sad puppy dog eyes, she lets out a sigh.

“I don’t know how you do it every morning. Den always hangs out with me in the shop and keeps me company when I pull all-nighters.” She squats down and makes a calling sound, causing the two dogs to scramble off the couch and come over to her in happy anticipation. She gives them both a big hug while Hawkeye laughs. To the dogs, Winry whispers. “You can move with me to Resembool if I decide not to stay, hm? You’d love it.”

This only makes Hawkeye chuckle a little louder.

“The big traitors would probably be only too happy to join you. They haven’t been sleeping on me pretty much since you got here.” Her gloved hand reaches down and rubs over White Rakurai’s forehead. “Isn’t that right, Raku? You’re a little traitor.” White Rakurai’s tail thumps evermore strongly at the words, because Hawkeye’s tone of voice makes them sound like praise. 

“They probably just think I miss Den. Dogs are smart when it comes to emotional pain.” She feels Black Hayate’s warm breath on her neck and it tickles a little, but not enough to push him away and give up the comfort of his easy loyalty. She’s always preferred animals over humans - mostly.

And then Lieutenant Hawkeye pulls her hand away from White Rakurai and turns towards the door, her next words floating out into the hallway as she pushes open her front door. “Or maybe they know you’re softer and prettier and more inclined to give them treats.”

To her endless credit, Winry does  _ not  _ let out the surprised squeak she wants to at the compliment. Nor does she spontaneously combust into a rainbow cloud of panicked gay shrieking. Instead, she keeps staring forward so she doesn’t have to meet Lieutenant Hawkeye’s gaze. She knows she will only embarrass herself if she does. 

-

The way to Central Command is not awkward, exactly, at least not for Lieutenant Hawkeye. To Winry, the other woman appears perfectly fine, like she hasn’t just made her explode in a cavalcade of confused appreciation. 

_ Lieutenant Hawkeye thinks I’m prettier than her. _ The words have been rolling around in her mind from front to back and side to side.  _ Lieutenant Hawkeye thinks I’m _ pretty. 

“Mustang has been trying to convince the brass to start hiring more diversely,” Hawkeye says with some enthusiasm as they both stroll along the road. “He thinks getting a few more people from Ishval into the military will show the people that we’ve really rebuilt ever since the fall of King Bradley.”

_ Lieutenant Hawkeye thinks I’m pretty.  _

“It’s been five years and the situation still isn’t perfect. I don’t know how much Seargent Elric has told you about it, but we might actually have to employ more troops along our Southern border. Aerugo thinks we’ve grown soft.” 

_ Lieutenant Hawkeye thinks I’m soft and pretty.  _

“Grumman is trying to keep them appeased, but I fear a new war might be coming. I think that’s part of the reason why the brass really wants you to be there when Captain Whitworth retires. They fear we will need an automail mechanic more than ever to help soldiers cope with their injuries. The whole thing is a big mess.” Hawkeye shakes her head and stuffs her hands into her pockets. “Aerugo seeks to take back some of the area we originally took from them. Our unit might even be deployed.”

Hawkeye’s words finally snap Winry out of her spiralling thoughts.

“What?!” she gasps out, her loud proclamation enough to startle several pedestrians on their way to work. “They might deploy you?!”

“Shh,” Hawkeye says quickly, grabbing Winry’s arm and pulling her away from the now  _ very  _ interested bystanders. “The public doesn’t exactly know yet that this is a possibility in the South. And we’re hoping we can handle the situation quietly and diplomatically before any of our troops or the people from Aerugo can be harmed.”

“I’m sorry.” Winry places a hand over the one Hawkeye has curled around her bicep. “I hated having to worry about Ed and Al constantly. The war with the homunculi was already really scary, and their deaths were… hard on them.” She shakes her head at the memory of Al telling her about Selim Bradley and how  _ human  _ he had seemed at certain moments before his defeat. “And I can’t even imagine what something like that against other humans would do to a person.”

She sees the haunted look pass over Hawkeye’s face and wishes she could simply change the subject back to dogs and how excited she is about automail. 

“I hope you never have to find out,” Hawkeye says, squeezing Winry’s arm gently before letting her hand drop back down and stuffing her fists into the pockets of her uniform jacket. “It’s a horrible feeling.”

“I’m sorry,” Winry repeats herself, reaching out towards Hawkeye this time and softly letting her hand pass along the woman’s back. “The boys have told me some of what you’ve had to do.” She glances at the huge steps of Central Command and quietly thanks the gods that they’ve made it to Hawkeye’s workplace. Even though it’s tied intimately into Hawkeye’s trauma, at least it’s a place that will be able to take her mind off the past. Although with the South becoming unstable, the future might shape up to be just as destructive to the lieutenant’s mental well-being.

Winry wishes she had the courage to give the strong, stoic woman in front of her a hug.

“Don’t apologize, Miss Rockbell. None of this is your fault.” Hawkeye gives her a small smile before starting to ascend the stairs. “We’ve all had things to do in this world we wish we didn’t. Even you, I’d imagine.”

Winry flashes back to pointing a gun at Scar’s chest. At how he’d encouraged her to shoot him, and how Ed had talked her down. She looks down at her hands. Built for helping people, he’d said. 

“Yeah,” she whispers to herself as she follows Hawkeye up the stairs, eyes fixed on the lieutenant’s back. She wonders what the other woman thinks about her own hands when she looks at them.

-

They split up in the foyer.

It’s eight forty-five. 

They’re perfectly punctual.

“Maybe we can walk home together again tonight?” Winry asks shyly as she gathers all the courage she can muster and reaches out to clasp Hawkeye’s hand in hers. She can feel the warmth of the lieutenant’s skin even through the glove and can hardly contain the flush on her cheeks.

“Of course,” Hawkeye says with a gentle smile. “I’ll come down to the shop after my shift to pick you up?”

“Perfect.”

“I hope you have a very pleasant day with Captain Whitworth,” Hawkeye gives Winry’s fingers a squeeze. “If you need anything, feel free to come up to the office. And don’t let the captain talk you into replacing one of your limbs.”

“I promise,” Winry agrees, her voice perhaps a little too gentle, especially in front of the receptionist, who Winry  _ swears  _ is looking at them curiously. “And you try not to work too hard. Remember to take breaks to stretch out your back.”

Hawkeye salutes.

“I’ll see you later, Miss Rockbell.”

“Bye,” Winry replies with a wave, before she stands and watches as Lieutenant Hawkeye makes her way over to the elevators. With a private smile, Winry turns in the opposite direction, though before she can take a step, she hears a small chuckle from off to her side.

Corporal Nieuport leans forward in her seat and sends Winry a smirk. “Sure is something, isn’t she?” she asks, though her voice doesn’t sound malicious. If anything, Winry thinks the officer feels her plight.

“Yep,” Winry replies, lifting one shoulder. “She sure is something.”

They share a smile, and then Winry is off to see the captain.

-

Whitworth is already there when Winry makes it to the shop with five minutes to spare until nine. He’s bent over the same automail arm as the previous evening, looking almost like he never left the place. The only indication that he has been out of the office is the state of his white t-shirt. Namely, that it’s less covered in grease than the one Winry’s seen him in before.

She knocks on the doorway so she doesn’t startle him, and as he whips his head around, a smile flashes over his face, making his thick, dark grey mustache twitch happily.

“Winry Rockbell!” he bellows happily, spinning around in his chair and quickly getting to his feet so he can shake her hand in greeting. “I’m glad you’re back. Richard says he hopes I didn’t overwhelm you with my enthusiasm yesterday.”

“Not at all, Captain! I had a fantastic time yesterday,” Winry reassures him quickly. “Honestly, I’m still not sure if this job is right for me, but the fact that you work here and have kept your enjoyment for automail gives me a great deal of hope.” 

Whitworth nods his head in understanding. 

“I know it can be scary to consider the military as a career option.” He raps his knuckles against the automail leg hidden under his uniform. “There were some hard times, especially during the Ishvalian War and then the whole business with the homunculi.” They walk over to the work bench and sit down, their hands still clasped together. “I have seen more people I thought were good folks turn towards some very bad ideas than I am entirely comfortable with.” 

His words sink deeply into her soul, giving voice to things she’s thought privately ever since she received the offer of working here. Things she’s not sure she wants to share, but feels like she should. Whitworth’s face is open and encouraging, and Winry gulps in a big breath of air.

Maybe it’s the fact that he so clearly shares her love for their profession, or maybe it’s the way he talks about his husband that gives Winry the courage to open herself. She’s not sure, but the words start spilling out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“I’m worried I’ll lose myself. I’ve never had to answer to anyone but myself and my grandmother.” Her eyes linger on the beautiful flower design on the automail arm next to them. “There’s so much cruelty in this world because our country was built on murder. I don’t know if I can sign myself over to a cause I don’t believe in.”

Captain Whitworh smiles carefully and rubs the back of her hand with his big thumbs. A gentle giant, reminiscent of the way Major Armstrong behaves around people who are half his size. They both seem to be contradictions in terms, but Winry has long since learned that appearances can only ever fool you.

“I was already with the military when I met my husband, Miss Rockbell,” he says without being prompted, drawing Winry’s thoughts away from her worries just a little. “He is  _ not  _ a fan of the people I work for. He’s an academic, you see.” The love on the captain’s face is sweet, an expression almost odd on a man of his stature. “He’s very idealistic. A pacifist. I know he wishes we didn’t have need for a military force at all. And if I’m honest with myself, I wish the very same thing. War is a horrible tragedy.”

“It took my parents,” Winry reveals, her free hand reaching up to her chest and closing over her heart. “They were doctors helping the wounded at Ishval.”

He nods.

“I lost a brother in the same war. I was lucky it only took my leg.” He looks down at their hands. “I can’t make the decision for you, Miss Rockbell, because you have to decide if you want to dedicate your life to an organization that has brought most people nothing but pain. I know no one here would judge you if you decided to go back home to your town and live out the rest of your days without ever so much as setting foot on Central Amestrian soil again.” 

There is a cadence to his voice that tells Winry he viscerally understands the loss she’s felt.

“Does it ever get easier? Looking at these walls and not feeling the screams of millions of people resonate off them?” The flowers on the automail gleam in the sunlight streaming in from the window.

“No,” he says honestly, following her gaze. “My automail has been used to crush and maim fellow human beings.” He reaches out with the fingers of his right hand and lets them glance across the fiberglass details. “But it has also saved people I care about. Sometimes I wonder if I am a fool for ever putting myself in this position, but then I think to myself… if I didn’t do it, someone else would have to endure this uncertainty.”

He smiles. 

“I don’t envy your position, Miss Rockbell. It’s a tough decision. The military is unkind to its employees, as it is designed to be. But for the moment, its presence is a constant we cannot change.” He gets back to his feet and places his hands at his waist. “For the moment, all we can do is work on ourselves and hope our morality will outlive the people who are currently making the decisions for us.”

Winry’s thoughts flicker to what Hawkeye had told her earlier, about King Grumman trying to appease the government of Aerugo, and she wonders if what Hawkeye had stated so confidently was true. If Grumman  _ was  _ trying to appease them; if his morality survived the influence of the homunculi and their ideals. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by Ed, who walks into the shop and gives Captain Whitworth a salute.

“The supplies you ordered have arrived, Captain,” he says, eyeing Winry’s unhappy expression. He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “The hell crawled up your ass?”

She rolls her eyes.

“None of your business, shorty,” she shoots back at him, making him scowl and causing Captain Whitworth to let out an uproarious laugh. 

“Ah, yes, the infamous Elric-Rockbell-friendship,” he says, walking over to Ed and clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you for telling me about the shipment, Sergeant. If you would be so kind as to let Captain Falman know as well? He owes me some manual labor and those supplies won’t carry themselves inside.”

“Of course, sir,” Ed says as he wriggles out from under the Captain’s claps. “Come on, Winry, let’s get to work.”

“Lead the way,  _ Sergeant,” _ she says mockingly as she hops off her stool and follows him. As she passes Captain Whitworth, she gives him a smile, grateful he took the time to listen to her worries. He winks at her.

-

“Really, though, what were you talking about with the Captain?” Ed asks as soon as they are out of earshot, his hands crossed behind his head and his braid bobbing up and down with the movement of his steps. “You guys looked really serious.”

Winry tries to trip him up with her foot, but he sidesteps it like he’s had years of practice. Which he has.

“People tend to look serious when they talk about the war crimes their country has committed,” she says almost too nonchalantly, gratified to see Ed trip up all on his own at the revelation. “I need to know what I’m getting myself into before I decide to join this death cult.” 

Ed huffs. “He didn’t try to talk you out of joining, did he? You probably wouldn’t even be seeing active combat or anything.” 

“Oh joy, I’ll only have to deal with the horrible aftermath. That’s a relief.” She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her dark-blue jeans and follows Ed around a corner. “After everything you’ve seen, aren’t you the least bit trepidatious about working for people who founded a country just to steal millions of souls in a big power grab?”

“Okay first of all, we defeated those people, if you recall,” he replies, lowering his hands from his head and tapping his forefinger against her temple. She swats it away. “That whole thing where Al and I got our bodies back? Ring any bells?” 

“I’m going to smack you.”

“And secondly, how am I supposed to change the system if I’m not a part of it?” He shrugs one shoulder. “There has to be an equal exchange somewhere. If I give as much good as I can into changing it, then surely eventually I will see an equal amount of good in return?” They reach the elevators and he presses the button to summon it. “There are people who work well outside of it, and then there’s me.” 

They both step onto the elevator and this time Winry crosses her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for the system, is all. Even if I  _ could  _ change it, I don’t know if I have the energy for it.” She leans her back against the wall of the elevator as it starts its ascension. “You’re just different, Ed. You’ve been a part of this since you were twelve.”

“Maybe.” He mimics her position. “Or maybe you have more energy than you realize.” He nudges her shoulder with his. “I know Mustang is willing to give you a trial period of a month before you have to make your final decision. I think you’d be an idiot not to take him up on the offer.”

She laughs.

“You always think I’m an idiot.”

“Because you  _ are,” _ he insists, reaching around her neck and pulling her into a spontaneous headlock, his free hand messing up her hair as best as he can.

“Ed! I’m going to kill you!” she yells out just as the doors to the elevator opens on the right floor.

They both freeze and look up, only to come face to face with Lieutenant Hawkeye, who is carrying a stack of folders and looking entirely too bemused at what she’s discovered. Ed doesn’t move, but Winry immediately disentangles herself to fix her hair.

“Miss Rockbell, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” Hawkeye says with just the slightest bit of a teasing undertone, almost causing Winry to perish right then and there. She’s pretty sure a part of her soul leaves her body all the same. Then, the lieutenant acknowledges Ed with a quick, “Sergeant,” and he salutes her half-mockingly.

“We’re just here to get Captain Falman, sir,” Ed says as he shoulders past Hawkeye, who gives him an exasperated look. “Whitworth’s shipment’s here.”

“Alright then. He’s barely had time to sit down, so this should be fun for him.” Hawkeye smiles at Winry, who has finally combed her hair into a manageable shape again after Ed’s attack. “I wish I could help, but the General has me running errands for him around the base.” She lifts the stack of folders in her arms for emphasis. 

“I’m sure we can manage,” Winry says kindly, moving forward to squeeze Hawkeye’s bicep. It’s firm, and Winry dies a little inside as she feels it flex under her touch. “See you later, Lieutenant.”

“Miss Rockbell,” Hawkeye says by way of a second goodbye as they pass by one another. The lieutenant is still smiling when the elevator closes and Winry lingers a second longer in front of the door, only to be rudely awakened from her romantic daydream by Ed’s finger against her temple again.

“There isn’t anything going on between you and Hawkeye, is there?” he asks suspiciously, his face scrunched up and his eyebrows drawn together.

“What? No!” she says, perhaps a little too defensively. Not that there  _ is, _ anyway. Lieutenant Hawkeye would never in a million years be interested in Winry, she’s pretty damn certain of that. The woman could have anyone she wanted, and she’s certainly not going to waste her time on a twenty-one year old who’s still technically living with her grandmother. “Why would you even think that?”

He grunts in contemplation.

“I don’t know,” he says, narrowing his eyes at her. “You got that look on your face, the one you always had around Sensei when we were kids.” He leans closer to her, still. “And I know for a fact that you had a crush on her.”

“I did not!” Winry argues.

She definitely did, though. Lord, did she have a crush on Sensei Curtis. She was always a hopeless mess when she and Granny would come visit Ed and Al.

“Did, too!” he retorts, walking backwards and folding his hands behind his head again. “You picked her flowers and everything.”

With a huff, Winry brings a hand to her face and rubs at her forehead. “Can we not talk about this, please? The memories are embarrassing enough as it is!” She doesn’t bother warning him about the pillar right behind him. “And it has nothing to do with Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

He pretends his collision with the pillar doesn’t hurt, but Winry just rolls her eyes. 

“Just--” He turns around to glare at the offending architectural fixture. “Just let me know if the two of you start anything. I’ll have to give her a proper talking to.” He kicks the marble, before turning back to her. “It’s my job, as your older brother.” He brings his fist to his heart and nods with determination.

She smiles and wraps her arm around his throat, dragging him along to Mustang’s office.

“Dumbass,” she says.

He scoffs.

-

The shipment consists almost entirely of raw materials that make Winry’s mouth water and her hands twitch almost uncontrollably. She wants to jump into the shipment and roll around in the beautiful metals, screws, and fiberglass. 

“See? There are upsides to having a military budget,” Ed says smugly as he gestures to the wooden crates and boxes of  _ stuff. _ Nearly twice as much stuff as Winry has ever had in her workshop at a single time. 

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispers reverently, causing Captain Falman to chuckle and clap her on the shoulder.

“We should get this inside so you can actually start working with it, hm?” He passes her, waves a few fellow officers over to the big truck, and starts delegating. Even with roughly ten people helping out, it takes them over three runs to finish unloading. 

On the fourth and final one, Falman falls into step with Winry and nudges her shoulder with his. “So, how long did Hawkeye end up waiting for you yesterday?” he asks her, his hands wrapped around a heavy crate of raw steel parts. 

The question confuses her. 

“What do you mean? We left together at seven.” 

“Ah,” Falman replies, amusement dancing across his face. “The lieutenant went to check on you at the end of her shift at four, but she came straight back and told us she didn’t want to ruin your fun. She must have made her way through quite a few stacks of paperwork.” 

Face heating, Winry looks down at the crate in her own hands.

“Oh,” she says dumbly, feeling her ears flush red at the revelation that the lieutenant waited for her for  _ three  _ whole hours. Without ever saying a word or indicating to Winry that it bothered her. “Um, she didn’t mention anything about that.”

Falman laughs.

“Yes, she’s like that,” he says with a happy little shrug. “We’re damn lucky she cares so much.”

With a weak smile, Winry studies her fingers. Her thoughts stray to the sweetness with which Hawkeye treats her dogs, and the stoic but friendly way she treats Ed and everyone else around her. Guilt begins gnawing at her stomach again. She really needs to find a different place to stay. She’s taken so much of Hawkeye’s kindness for granted already.

“Thanks for telling me, Captain Falman,” she says, unsure how to put into words how uncomfortable she feels at the revelation that Hawkeye went out of her way to ensure she had a good time at work. “I’ll make sure the lieutenant won’t put herself out like that again.” Her fingers tighten on the wood of the crate as she nods to herself. 

“Hm? Oh, no,” Falman says, his expression growing confused. “That’s not what I meant to imply. I’m sure if she didn’t want to stay, she would have just left.” They reach the door to Whitworth’s workshop and Winry lifts a shoulder in a shrug. Falman furrows his brows and gives her a small smile. “She’s been much more chipper the last few days. As chipper as she ever gets.” They both set down their crates and Falman uses the freeing up of his hands to place his palm on Winry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Miss Rockbell.” 

He doesn’t let Winry dwell for too long on her own thoughts. Instead, he waves over Whitworth and gestures towards the crates behind them. “All done, see?” Falman says triumphantly, his hands placed at his waist. “I’d say my debt was paid in full, Captain!” 

Whitworth brings a hand to his chin and hums thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, Falman.” Whitworth strokes his mustache a few times, although Winry sees a glint of teasing in his eyes. Evidently, Falman picks up on it as well, since he crosses his arms over his chest and takes on a slightly mutinous expression. “That rug was pretty expensive.”

“I see how it is.” Falman shakes his head. “You don’t want to give up your gofer.” 

A laugh cracks Whitworth’s expression and he slaps Falman on the back a little too hard, causing his flawless posture to crumble just slightly. “I’m only kidding. You’re free to go; you’ve done more than enough.”

With a salute, Falman retreats, though not before giving Winry another friendly smile. "Try not to use up all the supplies at once," he says jovially, almost colliding with Ed, who walks in with two smaller crates stacked on top of each other. Behind him, three other officers carry one of the larger ones in between them.

"So much for it being all done," Whitworth says to Winry, who smiles weakly. He claps his hands together and addresses the young people in his shop. "Thank you so much for taking the time, officers." He shoos them out with a few waves of his hands. "You don't have to stick around for the unpacking. Digging out the new parts is half the fun for people like Miss Rockbell and myself."

The soldiers look relieved that their manual labor is no longer needed, and they all salute before they leave. Ed is the only one who lingers.

"Shall we?" Whitworth prompts, his excitement almost radiating off him. "I ordered a few special things from Fort Briggs. Major General Armstrong is a dear friend." 

"Really?" Ed asks from close to the doorway, his hands occupied with poking one of the automail legs hanging from the wall. "I was under the impression the ice queen didn't have any friends."

The captain pulls out a crowbar from under his desk and sets to work on one of the bigger crates. And Winry must admit, talking about General Armstrong distracts her almost enough to stop worrying about being an inconvenience to the lieutenant. 

"Well, not that she would ever admit it," Whitworth says as he cracks open the crate and pulls off the lid. "But she comes by to have dinner with us whenever she's in town." He pushes away some of the hay that has been used to cushion the pieces of metal. "Miss Rockbell! Look at this!" He pulls out a finished automail arm and shoves it directly into Winry's hands. "I asked Major General Armstrong to send over a finished specimen so we can study it."

At the sight of the beautiful metalwork, Winry finally stops thinking about the previous day.

"It's so pretty!" she exclaims, stuffing her hand into her pocket and pulling out her goggles so she can clip on her magnifying glasses. "I miss Fort Briggs sometimes for exactly this reason. Their use of lighter materials is so gorgeous."

Whitworth, who seems satisfied with himself, leaves Winry to the arm and instead digs around in the crate for more treasures. With Ed poking around the area, mumbling quietly to himself, Winry feels almost like she's back home in her grandma's shop.

It's soothing.

-

That day, Winry makes it a priority to keep an eye on the clock. She's not going to be the reason for Lieutenant Hawkeye's overtime again, if she can help it. She also keeps an eye on the door when the end of Hawkeye's shift grows ever closer, and she's pretty sure Captain Whitworth catches on to the fact that her mind isn't quite as laser-focused as it was the previous day.

To his credit, he doesn't comment on her weird mood and lets her tinker away at the automail arm that General Armstrong sent over to them. It's the only thing that saves her brain from tearing itself apart from the inside out.

When Hawkeye's face finally shows up at the door, Winry stares at it owlishly for a few seconds, not quite convinced she's really seeing what she thinks she is.

"Knock knock," Lieutenant Hawkeye says with a smile, her hand mimicking her words and rapping against the doorway. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?" 

Winry's brain - finally deciding to wake up from its inactive state - looks down at where her hands are, before her eyes take in what Captain Whitworth is doing. Between them, Ed lays on a stretcher, both hands wrapped around his automail, an unpleasant look on his face, while Captain Whitworth has his own automail leg on the slab as well. 

All three of them shake their heads in unison at Hawkeye's amused expression.

"No, nope, not at all," Winry says, quickly letting go of Ed's limb and getting to her feet. "This isn't something we can't finish tomorrow."

"Or never!" Ed interjects, quickly hopping off the slab, shaking out his artificial leg, and rushing to the door. "This is the last time I hang out with both of you at the same time." He slides around Hawkeye and glares at Whitworth and Winry while he salutes. "Sir." 

"See you tomorrow, Sergeant Elric!" Whitworth calls after him enthusiastically as he rolls his pant leg back down over his shin. "He's a good boy." His words force a smile to Winry's lips, and she only feels slightly embarrassed when she joins Lieutenant Hawkeye at the door.

"Same time tomorrow?" Winry asks with some hope in her voice, and Captain Whitworth casually salutes her.

"Nothing would please me more," he says sincerely, before he returns to the scraps of metal laid bare on the stretcher next to the one they'd just had Ed reclining on. Before they can leave, Hawkeye places a hand on Winry's shoulder and holds her back from leaving for just a moment.

"Don't take off your leg by yourself again, Captain," she says, concern and amusement both equally mixed into her voice. "Please at least wait until tomorrow so Miss Rockbell can assist."

Whitworth doesn't even look up. "You take the fun out of everything, Lieutenant Hawkeye." He dismissively waves them off with his hand, but Hawkeye seems satisfied with his response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone not familiar with the show, Whitworth is My Child. i wish he were a real part of the show, but alas, he does not exist outside of the confines of this fanfiction
> 
> i hope you're enjoying the slow progression so far, because next chapter is where we start to get more bonding between Riza and Winry, bless them. They're so dumb and i love them
> 
> if you want to support me, find me on tumblr @goshdarnitjay
> 
> beta-d by the lovely PlushPanda, who took the time to look this over this for me ♥♥


	4. a lot of people that need help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm snuggled in bed as i publish this -- i hope you are, too, as you are reading this
> 
> our girls get some quality time
> 
> hope you enjoy

The walk home is uneventful, mainly because Winry spends most of it stewing on how best to approach the subject of moving out of Hawkeye's apartment without seeming ungrateful and sounding too pitiful. She doesn't want to make Hawkeye feel like she's secretly begging to be housed for longer, especially now that she's decided to stay on with the military for at least a month to see how it goes and how she feels about it. 

For her part, Hawkeye talks about the people she conversed with while on her errands for Mustang, her elbow brushing Winry's every now and again, her face open and friendly. The idle chatter puts Winry at ease a little. She's pretty sure she hasn't yet outstayed her welcome, or Hawkeye surely wouldn't be so patient and kind with her.

She even joins in on the conversation with more than just noises of acknowledgement when they're almost to Hawkeye's apartment. They laugh a little at some of the other general's quirks as they ride up the elevator.

The whole thing has put Winry in a much better mood, although she still falls to her knees in front of Black Hayate and White Rakurai when they come running for her so she can put her face in their soft fur.

"They really do love you," Hawkeye observes as she closes the front door behind herself and sets the keys in a bowl next to it. "I'll get out of uniform and then we can walk them, if you're up for it. Carrying metal around all day must be tiring." Hawkeye pulls on the turtleneck of the top she wears under her uniform jacket, revealing for a second the jagged scar running along her neck before it vanishes again. It's the first time Winry has seen even a glimpse of the thing, since even Hawkeye's sleep shirt that morning had been a turtleneck.

"Actually yeah, I am pretty tired. I'd rather start on dinner while you take care of them, if that's okay?" Winry says in between licks from White Rakurai, who has already figured out that she won't be reprimanded for it as long as she stays clear of Winry's eyes. 

"Sure, or I could buy some take out on the way if you just want to rest?" Hawkeye suggests, lingering behind the couch and fiddling with the first button of her uniform jacket. The softly concerned look on her face is sweet, and Winry gives her a reassuring smile.

"I actually miss cooking a lot. Granny and I usually cook together in the evening just to catch up on any gossip or talk of the town." Winry taps Raku's snout and the dog pulls back so she can get to her feet. "Unless you’re specifically in the mood for take-out.”

“No, not particularly. If you feel like cooking, I’m not going to say no to that,” Lieutenant Hawkeye says before turning and walking along the hallway that leads to her bedroom, study, and bathroom. “Be back in a second.” Winry watches her disappear behind her bedroom door, and lets out a small sigh towards Black Hayate, who follows her into the kitchen and sits on the floor by her feet as she looks into the fridge. White Rakurai trots over to the couch and drapes herself across what has become Winry’s pillow.

“Still a pretty sad sight,” Winry tells Black Hayate, who snuffles against her leg until she drops a hand to his head. “Your mom needs to go grocery shopping when I’m gone.” He rubs his nose against her hand and she smiles down at him. “At least she’ll have a handsome boy around to keep her company, hm?”

Before Winry can pluck out things that might be useful for dinner, Lieutenant Hawkeye pops back around the corner and into the open kitchen, her uniform jacket now entirely undone. As it turns out, the dark brown top she wears underneath is skin-tight, and Winry tries her hardest not to stare at the definition of abdominal muscles she can see outlined right in front of her.

“I just remembered I bought a ton of rice recently,” Hawkeye mentions as she pulls the clip from her hair, letting it cascade in beautiful strands around her face. “Maybe we can do something with that. Should I pick up some meat on the way back? There’s a butcher’s shop not too far from here that should still be open at this time.” She runs her left hand through her hair while reaching up with her right to open up one of the cupboards to reveal the huge bag of rice sitting there. 

“You just remembered?” Winry teases gently, trying to distract herself from the unkempt look of the lieutenant. 

“I told you I don’t cook very much,” Hawkeye defends herself, before reaching up and grabbing the rice to take it down. For a moment, Winry wishes the lieutenant wasn’t wearing her jacket anymore so she could see those biceps move, but ultimately she decides it’s probably a good thing that they’re hidden from view. “So, how about that meat?” She pushes a few stray pieces of hair out of her eyes, and she looks almost too breathtaking in this casual moment for Winry to produce a single sound.

“Sure,” Winry finally squeezes out, the only thing keeping her grounded being Black Hayate’s eager snuffles for more petting. “I’ll start on the rice and vegetables and then we can finish with the meat once you’re back.”

“I’ll make sure to hurry,” Lieutenant Hawkeye promises with a blinding smile before she’s gone again, leaving Winry to the bag of rice and her own thoughts. With a scowl, Winry bangs her forehead against the edge of the refrigerator door and curses this useless crush she’s developing. 

-

The meat is more tender than Winry anticipates and she suspects that the lieutenant spent more money on it than strictly necessary. Still, she's not going to complain if this is to be one of her final meals with Hawkeye before they part ways.

"So, I've been meaning to ask you if we could go through the contract together that Mustang gave to me. I have a few questions about some specific clauses." Winry scrapes a healthy helping of sauce-drenched rice onto her fork. "I want to ask Captain Whitworth about it tomorrow, too."

"Sure," Hawkeye agrees without hesitation, before taking a sip of beer. 

They're sitting together at the dining table behind the couch, while the two dogs stare up at them from the floor, hoping some of the food will magically float down to them. With any other pieces of meat, Winry might cave and share, but the taste of this is too rich to feed it to them. 

“I’ll try to help, but if you have any specific questions, it might be a good idea to talk to Second Lieutenant Albatross. She handles all the contract work for General Mustang.” While Winry cooked, Lieutenant Hawkeye had helped as best as she could, although she wasn’t lying when she said her skills in this department were average at best. Still, it had been a fun experience. “I’d send her down to the workshop, but she doesn’t like to leave the General’s side, so you’d have to come up to the office.”

“I don’t think Captain Whitworth will mind. I won’t technically be conscribed to the military until next week on Monday,” Winry replies, pushing her big toe against White Rakurai’s exposed belly. “Hey, maybe they can let me live in the barracks for real and give me a bunk. Ed said they recently opened up another section just for female recruits, because there’ve been so many new ones.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye’s fork falters on the way to her mouth, before it pushes on. After a few seconds of chewing and swallowing, she lays it down on her plate before dabbing the side of her mouth with a napkin.

“I know they’re looking to expand at the moment. I could inquire if they have an open spot for you,” she offers with a smile, her eyes on the beer bottle in her hand. “The new recruits I’ve met are all good kids, from what I’ve seen.”

Pushing around a particularly large slice of mushroom on her plate, Winry watches Hawkeye take another sip of beer. 

“I really want to thank you again for taking me in,” she says tentatively, spearing the mushroom and swirling it in sauce. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t. Ed can be such a dumbass about certain things. I’d probably still be sleeping in your unit’s office if you hadn’t offered.”

A hand comes into view, and Winry looks up when she feels Hawkeye’s fingers curl around her left wrist. As always, her skin is warm to the touch, even after she’s been clutching the beer bottle. 

“Miss Rockbell,” she starts, a furrow appearing between her brows, “you aren’t worried about overstaying your welcome again, are you? Because I don’t know how many times I have to say that you are welcome to stay here for as long as you want. If you want to leave, I’ll help you find a new place, but don’t go on my account. The dogs certainly love having you here.”

As if on cue, Black Hayate flops his head down on Winry’s thigh and looks up at her longingly.

“Lieutenant, you have been so kind to me. I couldn’t possibly ask you to let me stay here for a full month.” Eyes falling down to the dog head in her lap, Winry almost misses the way Hawkeye’s fingers tighten ever so slightly on her wrist. 

“Miss Rockbell,” Hawkeye says again, but when Winry doesn’t lift her eyes, she lets out a small sigh. And then, Winry almost stops hearing altogether, or breathing, because Hawkeye says her name with such  _ sweetness, _ she doesn’t quite know what to do. “Winry," she says softly, and the way her tongue wraps around the two syllables is unlike anything Winry's heard come out of Hawkeye’s mouth before. “Please.”

Eyes flitting up, Winry takes in the lieutenant’s open expression.

“What?” she whispers softly, her wrist growing ever warmer under Hawkeye’s fingertips.

“Ask,” Hawkeye replies, a soft smile lifting up the left side of her mouth. 

Swallowing thickly, Winry’s gaze flits to the more than comfy sofa bed she’s been staying on for the past three days; to the dog snout on her thigh and the dog belly on the floor next to her foot; to the bowl of soft rice she and Hawkeye have prepared together.

“Would--” Winry chances a glance at the other woman’s face and sees nothing but encouragement. “Would it be okay if I stayed here? Until I figure out what I want to do?” 

Lieutenant Hawkeye doesn’t even take a beat to reply, her fingers giving one final squeeze to Winry’s wrist. “Of course,” she says, before picking up her fork again. “I’ll make some space in the study for your automail projects so you don’t have to put them away every time we want to have dinner.” 

The conclusion to what Winry had thought would be a difficult conversation is more abrupt - and far more  _ easy  _ \- than she quite knows what to do with. Maybe that’s why she blinks owlishly at Hawkeye for a long moment before her brain finally catches up to the generous offer. She catches herself  _ just  _ shy of telling Hawkeye not to bother. 

“That sounds nice. We may need to put down a tarp. I’ll feel better once I know I won’t be ruining your furniture,” she says instead, laying her hand atop Black Hayate’s head and scratching him behind his ears. “Thank you. Really, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. This is a big step in a new direction for you. Much better to have a place to hang your hat in the big city. At least temporarily.” Hawkeye cuts off a square of the expensive meat and whistles for White Rakurai to sit up. Winry has long since realized that the lieutenant uses different cadences for her two pets when she calls for them, and Black Hayate only barely twitches. “And if something better comes along, you can always move then.” She only hands the piece of meat to White Rakurai once the dog has performed a few tricks for it.

Winry doesn’t think something better ever  _ could  _ come along.

-

Friday morning is the first time that Winry wakes up before Lieutenant Hawkeye has left her bedroom. She feels more refreshed than she has since coming to Central City, and she chalks it up to no longer feeling quite as guilty about taking advantage of the lieutenant’s kindness.

Her mind flashes back to their conversation.

_ Winry, _ she thinks. 

_ Please, _ she thinks.

_ Ask, _ she thinks.

A glance at the clock reveals that it’s barely even six forty-five, and she snuggles a bit deeper under the blanket in response. She’s not tired anymore, but she indulges in closing her eyes and reminiscing about that moment where Hawkeye had almost held her hand and called her by her first name. Honestly, the only thing that could have made the moment more perfect would have been a lit candle in between them. 

Raising her arms, she places her hands behind her head and blows a strand of hair out of her face.  _ If you want to leave, I’ll help you find a new place, but don’t go on my account, _ her brain repeats again, like it’s been doing pretty much since Hawkeye offered her to stay. 

She covers her eyes with her forearm and grins. A giggle follows. Then, she gets up.

Time to make sure Lieutenant Hawkeye stays happy with her decision. 

-

Lieutenant Hawkeye shuffles into the open kitchen and living room combo about twenty minutes later, her hair somewhat more mussed than the day before. “You’re up early,” she says, peeking into the pan Winry has sizzling away on the stove. “And you’re making breakfast.” Hawkeye smiles. “Are you sharing?”

“Only if you ask nicely, Lieutenant,” Winry says without thinking too hard on how suggestive the words sound. 

But Hawkeye only laughs and nods.

“I think that’s a small price to pay,” she agrees, eyeing the pancakes that have already been finished with some interest. “If I knew these were in my future, I would have asked Sergeant Elric to invite you to Central City much sooner.”

“I’m sure that’s true.”

Hawkeye grins at her for a second longer, before she passes by Winry and walks towards the front door. “I’ll get the mail and the newspaper. Be back in a second.” She also whistles for the two dogs who have been patiently sitting by Winry's side, hoping the pancake batter would learn how to fly. They scramble out after Hawkeye, who hums a soft tune to herself, and Winry very nearly lets the latest pancake burn in the pan because she can’t stop grinning to herself. 

-

“Do you want to come to the office with me first to speak to Second Lieutenant Albatross?” Hawkeye asks in the foyer just before they're set to part ways. She's carrying a briefcase under one arm this morning. 

"Actually, I want to say hi to the Captain so he doesn't think I won't show. And I'm worried about that joke you made yesterday. About him taking off his automail by himself." Winry clutches her own tote bag a little closer to herself, trying to get up her courage.

"Oh, that wasn't a joke. It's been about a year but the last time Whitworth got a huge new shipment, his apprentice was out sick and he couldn’t wait to try some new contraption on himself.” Hawkeye rubs her temple at the memory and lets out a sigh. “Sergeant Elric found him passed out on the floor.”

The image of Captain Whitworth - tall and broad-shouldered as he is - sprawled out on the floor with his leg unattached and likely covered in grease and sweat at the exhaustion of unplugging his own limb from his nerves has Winry at once exasperated and amused. It also makes her glad she doesn’t have an automail limb herself, because she’s not entirely sure she wouldn’t be equally as foolish as the captain when it comes to trying new things and not having anyone to try them on. 

“Okay, now I really have to go,” she says, finally feeling unclenched enough to reach into her tote bag and take out one of the two plastic boxes inside. “I packed you up some leftovers from last night so you don’t have to get anything from the mess hall.” Winry has heard plenty of horror stories from Ed about the food they occasionally like to serve, and she feels much better knowing Hawkeye will have a proper meal. 

A slight smile takes hold of Hawkeye’s mouth and she takes the box with little hesitation, although she follows up the move with a hand on Winry’s elbow. 

“Thank you,” she says ever so softly, and Winry’s ears burn with pleasure. 

“You’re welcome.” Winry covers the hand on her arm gently with her own and holds it there for perhaps a beat too long. The moment is broken when a few soldiers that Winry doesn’t know enter the building and salute the lieutenant, who squeezes Winry’s arm one more time before pulling away and saluting in kind. 

“I’ll be up to the office soon,” Winry promises as she steps away, sharing a private smile with the lieutenant before she turns and starts her way in the opposite direction. She whistles softly to herself as she walks and ignores the knowing look of the secretary, who winks at her.

-

Captain Whitworth is in one piece when Winry shows up.

Thank the gods.

-

That evening, sitting at the table behind the couch, Winry looks down at the signed contract in front of her, wondering why the signature at the bottom of the paper doesn’t scare her more. She feels like it should. 

She brings a finger to the page and rubs across the name. 

_ Winry Rockbell, _ it says in scraggly handwriting.

She’s been issued a few standard military uniforms as well, although Captain Whitworth has told her that no one really cares much if she wears the jacket in or around the shop. They want her to do a good job and the restrictiveness of the material can hamper movement that’s necessary for working the metal.

“Here,” a voice says next to Winry, who looks up to find a mug of tea placed in front of her. “You look like your ears are on the verge of blowing steam.” Hawkeye’s fingers pull at Winry’s right earlobe. “You want to talk about your decision?”

When Winry lifts her shoulders in a shrug, Hawkeye pulls out a chair and sits down, too. She has her own mug of tea and sips at it quietly, waiting for Winry to gather her thoughts. Her hair is down and she’s no longer in uniform, but she also isn’t dressed to go out. Instead, she’s wearing a pair of comfortable black sweatpants and a black, sleeveless turtleneck. There are scars on her arms that Winry might ordinarily like to ask about now that she’s close enough to count them, but her mind is elsewhere.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Winry asks, picking up the tea and taking a quick sip. Something with lemon. Soothing. 

“Of course,” Hawkeye confirms, a whimsical look coming over her face. “You were a sweet child. You brought me tea.”

“I was a brat,” Winry retorts, thinking back to that moment years ago when the soldiers had come to their door to see Ed and Al. She’d been terrified then, her only contact with the military having been as the reason her parents were dead. “I really hated you when you came to see us.”

Hawkeye chuckles, running a hand through her bangs. “Did you know the reason I grew out my hair was because I met you?” she says, seemingly unperturbed by the memory of Winry thinking of her as a bad person. 

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m really not,” Hawkeye insists with a laugh. “I used to keep my hair short because it was practical, but I grew it out after I met you because I thought it looked nice on you and wanted to try it.” She pulls at her own hair. “As you can see, it stuck.”

“It looks great,” Winry says, tapping her fingers on her mug of tea. “Although I remember thinking you looked quite striking with your short hair.” Her cheeks barely flush. She’s too conflicted about her feelings regarding the military to give much of a shit about whether or not she just admitted to finding the lieutenant attractive. The woman owns a mirror. Surely she’s aware of how good she looks. 

“Even though you hated me?” Hawkeye teases her, her grin hidden behind her mug. 

“I was ten, okay, not an idiot. I could hold more than two thoughts in my head at the same time.” Winry flips to a different page of the contract, even though she more than thoroughly went through the whole thing again with Second Lieutenant Albatross  _ and  _ Captain Whitworth. “I never thought I’d join the military. Ever.”

“Neither did I.” Hawkeye looks over to the pile of dogs on the couch and shakes her head. “My father hated the military with a passion. He was furious when General Mustang decided to join. He almost didn’t finish the general’s training because he was so angry.” 

Winry places her chin on her left palm and watches the memories fly across Hawkeye’s face. “You told me you joined because you had someone to protect. You were talking about General Mustang, weren’t you?” 

The lieutenant nods slowly.

“He was my father’s pride and joy and the only thing keeping me tethered to my father’s legacy. And then he was sent to Ishval as part of Order 3066.” Her words sound almost clinical, like she’s detached herself as much as possible from them, and Winry understands why. She was only touched by the war through the death of her parents, but Lieutenant Hawkeye  _ lived  _ it. She saw the atrocities first-hand, even helped to commit them. “I was afraid I would lose the connection to my father if he left without me.” 

She lifts her eyes and meets Winry’s. 

“That’s what worries me most about the unrests at our Southern border, that more young people will suffer as a result of our foolish decisions,” she says, her brown eyes dulled from the imagined pain of thousands of future soldiers. “I don’t want you to see what I saw.”

Reaching out with her hand, Winry lays it on the lieutenant’s forearm.

“I was wrong, I think,” Winry starts slowly, her fingers still and firm on Hawkeye’s bare skin. There’s a scar right under her forefinger, and she fights the impulse to trace it. “I shouldn’t have hated the soldiers, I should have hated the system that made them necessary in the first place.” Her eyes wander the lieutenant’s face. “But Ed said something to me yesterday that made me reconsider outright rejecting the idea of joining up.”

“Sergeant Elric had something insightful to say? I should mark this day in my calendar,” Hawkeye says, clearly trying to brighten the mood. Winry awards her efforts with a smile.

“He did, for once,” she agrees, finally giving in and tracing one of the lieutenant’s many scars. “He told me that he’s never going to be able to change the system if he isn’t a part of it first, and I think he might be right about that.” The scar tissue is rougher than the rest of Hawkeye’s skin, and the texture has Winry a little distracted. “I still don’t know if it’s the right decision, but I want to help people. And I think there are a lot of people that need help in our military.”

Her eyes meet Hawkeye’s again and she wonders if the woman needs help, too, and if Winry might be able to give it to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're soft and gay and im not sorry 
> 
> chapter 5 has some of my fave things, so stay tuned for thattt
> 
> thanks to my buddy PlushPanda for checking this for typos -- a true gay friend
> 
> if you want to support me or chat to me, find me on tumblr at goshdarnitjay


	5. in the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters ! hope you enjoy !
> 
> there will be some lovely clichés
> 
> enjoy xoxo

Saturday morning, Winry wakes to the sound of the front door opening and closing, and she looks over to see Lieutenant Hawkeye entering with a large package that Winry isn’t quite sure she understands in her sleep-addled state. It’s taller than the lieutenant, even, and Winry squints through the light streaming in from beyond the curtains in the living room.

“What?” she asks, causing Hawkeye to turn around and beam at her.

“Good morning, Miss Rockbell,” she says with far too much enthusiasm for this time of day. Although a look at the clock reveals that it’s already well past ten in the morning. In her defense, Winry had stayed up late the night before to look at some schematics that Captain Whitworth had lent her of the projects he is currently working on. “I hope you slept well. I just picked up a few things.”

“How long have you been up?” Winry asks as she sits up on the couch and rubs her face. 

“Since around seven-thirty. It’s hard to sleep in when you’re used to being up early.” The lieutenant passes behind the couch, Black Hayate and White Rakurai following after her like the small pack of loyal puppies they are. Blinking a few times to adjust to the notion of being  _ awake, _ Winry takes in the other woman’s outfit - a black skirt that reaches just above her knees and a blue jean-jacket over a dark brown turtleneck. 

Winry tries to be polite and to not look at the lieutenant’s butt.

It’s tough.

A yawn saves her just before Hawkeye turns back around with a cup in her hand. 

“Here you go, Miss Rockbell,” she says and presses the cup into Winry’s open palms, the scent of coffee wafting off of it. Winry spots a thermos on the counter and feels warmth spread along her chest at the thought of Lieutenant Hawkeye keeping coffee warm and ready for her.

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, taking a sip of the beverage and realizing that Hawkeye has remembered how she likes it prepared. Hiding her grin behind the cup, she watches as Hawkeye opens the fridge to pull out a bottle of juice. Winry notes with some surprise that the fridge is full for a change. “You went grocery shopping?”

“I tend to go on the weekends,” Hawkeye replies, reaching up into one of her cupboards to grab a glass. “I would have asked you if you needed anything, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I can run out and grab anything else you need later.”

Winry is on the verge of denying the offer, but she’s feeling too content to be polite.

“What’s in the big box?” she asks instead, jabbing her thumb towards the door while the lieutenant sips her juice and rubs her dogs behind the ears alternately. 

Hawkeye grins.

“It’s a surprise,” she says, setting down her glass. “Something you’ll need if you’re to stay here for an extended period of time.” 

“Well now you have to tell me, Lieutenant,” Winry insists, and Hawkeye just laughs. 

-

Winry feels pretty comfortable on the couch with a dog on either side and a replenished cup of coffee in her hands. What she feels less comfortable with is looking at Lieutenant Hawkeye with her jacket off, her hair in a bun at the back of her head, and her muscles moving as she builds whatever contraption she brought home in that big box. Less comfortable and more enticed, which is very dangerous.

First, the lieutenant pulls out several metal poles from the box, before following it up with a sheet of schematics and a bag of screws. 

“Hm, I’ll need my tools for this, it looks like. I’ll be right back,” she says, taking the schematics and vanishing from the living room, leaving Winry stewing in her attraction. 

“Your mom is testing me,” Winry murmurs to White Rakurai, who licks across her cheek in response. “I know, Raku, I know. It’s cruel.”

Then, as quickly as she’s disappeared, Hawkeye returns with a tool box in hand.

“What’s cruel?” she asks, giving Winry a small heart attack in the process.

“The fact that you won’t tell me what you bought.” Winry’s improvisation feels weak, but Hawkeye only shrugs and smiles. 

“I don’t like to take the fun out of surprises, Miss Rockbell.” She returns to what she was doing prior, her biceps and triceps on full display as she pulls over the first metal pole. It seems heavy, but Hawkeye handles it with aplomb. “Although I should have put pants on for this.”

Winry isn’t sure she agrees. The skirt curves well around Hawkeye’s butt as she kneels down to screw two of the metal poles together. 

“Maybe,” she acquiesces, patting White Rakurai’s head a little clumsily so as to seem busy. “If you need any help, you can always ask. I’m pretty good with metal, in case you forgot.” Hawkeye turns towards her so Winry can see her roll her eyes. “Okay, fine, I won’t offer again. But don’t blame me when the thing comes out crooked.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve built things with these hands before,” Hawkeye defends herself, waving her left hand around in the air, bringing a fresh flush to Winry’s cheeks. She wonders quietly what else those hands might be able to do. It’s highly inappropriate, but an image moves across the back of her head of Lieutenant Hawkeye pinning her down, using her hands for purposes most unbecoming of a good soldier. “I know what I’m doing.”

“If you say so.” Winry sips at her coffee and gets a little more comfortable, trying not to jostle Black Hayate’s head on her lap. She has a feeling she will enjoy this whole thing entirely too much.

-

“And it’s finished!” Hawkeye says with some satisfaction, slapping her hand on the top-most metal pole and grinning from ear to ear. There’s a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead, though not enough to cause droplets. When Winry makes an acknowledging noise, waiting for her to elaborate, Hawkeye pulls out a bag from behind the television stand. The paper rustles as she pulls out a bunch of hangers. “It’s a clothes rack! So you don’t have to keep living out of your duffle bag.” 

Lifting both eyebrows, Winry finally realizes that Hawkeye is right. It certainly explains why she screwed wheels to the bottom parts of the metal poles at some point. Not sure what to say, Winry disentangles herself from the dogs and the blanket and gets to her feet, no longer self-conscious about how little she sleeps in. 

“It will also help you keep your uniform crease-free,” Hawkeye explains further, gesturing at the clothes rack and slapping it a few more times like it’s a car. “I got a medium one, but we can always expand.”

The woman seems poised to continue, but Winry can’t stop herself.

Reaching out with both hands, she pulls the lieutenant into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her. “Thank you,” she says, pressing her nose against Hawkeye’s shoulder and breathing in the subtle scent of her perfume and clean sweat. 

It takes a few seconds, but finally Hawkeye’s hands find Winry lower back and reciprocate the embrace. The heat of her fingers is scorching on Winry’s bare skin, and she squeezes her eyes shut to take in the moment.

“You’re welcome,” Hawkeye replies softly, moving her right thumb back and forth on Winry’s waist. “If you want, I’ll help you put everything up.” 

Her attentiveness almost makes Winry snap, but she manages to stop herself from nuzzling even further into the other woman’s neck. If she didn’t, she might end up kissing places she’s definitely not supposed to kiss. Finally, Winry disentangles herself, butterflies flying back and forth in her stomach at the feeling of Hawkeye’s fingers slowly gliding along her skin as she lets go. 

“I mean it, Lieutenant. Thank you for this.” She grabs the other woman’s hand and squeezes it to express her gratitude through more than just words. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

-

They hold hands for perhaps a little too long to be considered insignificant.

Then, they hang up Winry’s clothes together, although Winry keeps her underwear well out of the Lieutenant’s reach. No need to feel even more embarrassed than she already does. 

When they’re done, Winry feels an almost insatiable need to call her Granny to  _ gush _ about Lieutenant Hawkeye. It’s an altogether foreign feeling, and she fights it down. Though when Hawkeye arranges Winry’s new military-issued boots on the platform underneath the hanging rail, Winry feels a little bit like she wants to go out and buy an engagement ring. Just a little bit.

Maybe.

-

The first week of being an honest to the gods  _ soldier  _ goes well for Winry, with a few hitches along the way. 

Since this isn’t the first time she’s worn the uniform, she manages to put it on with little fuss, although it’s still odd to see it on herself. She spends a good ten minutes in front of the mirror in Hawkeye’s bathroom, just staring at herself and thinking about what her parents would think of her now, if they could see her. 

Lieutenant Hawkeye smiles when she finally emerges, and Winry feels like she’s accomplished something. “Corporal Rockbell,” the lieutenant says and salutes, prompting Winry to drop the empty tote bag she’s holding so she can respond in kind.

“This is weird,” she says as she crouches down to pick it back up.

“You get used to it.” 

The first walk to Central Command in uniform makes Winry feel like everyone’s staring at her, but Hawkeye reassures her that this is merely her brain playing tricks on her. Winry isn’t quite sure she believes her. She can’t blend into the crowds in this uniform. People will always assume that she agrees with the policies of their country. 

She isn’t just an ordinary citizen in these clothes - she’s a  _ representative. _

The second and third walks don’t make her feel much different, but on the fourth she’s better at ignoring it. Especially since she mimics Lieutenant Hawkeye’s stoic expression and gait. Something which Hawkeye teases her over when she realizes what Winry is doing.

The automail projects that Captain Whitworth currently has lined up aren’t anything difficult, and even though Winry is supposed to assist him for the first two weeks of her trial period, he sneakily assigns her her own projects on the first day. 

Winry continues preparing lunches for Lieutenant Hawkeye and the other woman seems surprised every time. She wears that same humbled half-smile when she realizes Winry has done something nice for her, and she squeezes Winry’s elbow in the same spot day after day.

The secretary - Corporal Nieuport - winks at her every morning, but Winry learns to ignore her.

Friday night, Winry ends up talking to her grandmother for so long that Lieutenant Hawkeye comes by to say goodnight, only to be roped into the discussion Granny has started about the merits and demerits of hiding weaponry inside automail limbs. It’s a discussion Winry has had with her many times, but it’s the first time they’ve had an actual weapons specialist in the same room. 

It’s nice, especially when Lieutenant Hawkeye sits down next to where Winry has the phone wedged between her ear and shoulder so she can simultaneously work on an automail project she’s brought from Resembool. At some point, the lieutenant goes as far as to take the phone away from Winry so she can speak to old Pinako Rockbell personally, and her serious expression makes her look just as formidable in a pair of pajama pants and a turtleneck sweater as she does in uniform. 

All in all, Winry thinks the week couldn’t have gone much better. 

But then Saturday rolls around.

-

Saturday morning sees Winry being woken up by a dog tongue licking across her nose. 

“Wh--Haya, no,” she says as she pushes her hands against the dog’s happy little snout. “I’m sleeping.” Her internal clock is telling her it’s  _ way too early to get up, goddamnit, _ but the black dog seems to have other ideas. Her hands get targeted next, and she has to actively sit up and away from his enthusiasm for him to stop. “Bad doggo.” She says it without really meaning it, and she pets him behind his ears anyway.

It’s eight in the morning. 

Winry went to bed three hours ago. 

“Why would you do this to me, Haya?” she whines, but his tail just thumps up and down excitedly on her blanket, and she can’t stay mad at him. “Do you want a snack, hm? Do you?” 

Hefting herself to her feet, Winry wonders where White Rakurai has gone. Usually, when they want something, they tend to play the double act to improve their chances of getting away with whatever it is. Double the puppy dog eyes, double the reward. 

She hears some movement from Hawkeye’s bedroom and assumes the dogs have decided to try their luck at waking both humans at the same time, which makes equal amounts of sense to Winry. Lieutenant Hawkeye’s dogs are too goddamn smart. And early risers, too. 

Glancing at the food bowls in the kitchen, Winry furrows her brows when she realizes they’re both full, meaning Lieutenant Hawkeye has already been up and about. “Then what did you wake  _ me  _ up for, you little rascal?” She crouches down in front of Black Hayate and he tries to lick her face again. “Or do you just want the good automail grease, hm? I’m not entirely sure that it’d be good for you, buddy.”

Getting to her feet, Winry slowly walks around the corner and into the hallway, just to let Lieutenant Hawkeye know that she has devil dogs. She almost knocks on the doorframe before she realizes what she’s looking at. 

Hawkeye’s back is turned to her, and she isn’t wearing her usual turtleneck. She isn’t wearing anything at all over her sports bra. Her back is bare to Winry’s eyes for the first time, and it’s almost enough to steal her breath. And not just because Hawkeye’s muscles move with purpose with each pull-up. 

It’s the huge tattoo that covers almost the entirety of the other woman’s back that has Winry so fascinated. She recognizes it as a transmutation circle used in alchemy, even though she doesn’t understand how it works or what it would be used for. Ed and Al are the alchemists in her family, after all. 

What shocks her more than the tattoo, however, are the burn scars that litter Hawkeye’s back, obscuring part of the design, making it illegible in places. Winry’s pretty sure she could have stayed there and stared for another hour, if White Rakurai hadn’t barreled into the front of her legs and nearly knocked her over, causing her to let out a curse. 

The noise makes Lieutenant Hawkeye pause and look over her shoulder.

“Winry,” she says, clearly too surprised to be formal. “Something wrong? Why are you up already? Did I make too much noise?” She drops to the floor and turns around quickly, hiding the tattoo from Winry’s view. Although this only serves to bring the long, jagged scar on her neck into sharp focus. Before it’s on display for too long, she grabs a towel and uses it to wipe at her neck. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you didn’t do anything,” Winry tries to reassure her, feeling too tired and loopy to really know what she’s doing, and wishing she could have just stayed on the damn couch. She feels Hawkeye’s discomfort radiate off her, and can only imagine what having scars of that size would do to a person’s self-perception. “Black Hayate licked my nose until I woke up. I think it’s a sign he wants me to take a shower.” 

The sweat on Hawkeye’s body entices Winry’s brain, but she doesn’t allow the thoughts of  _ sharing  _ a shower to enter her perception. That’s a thought experiment for another time, perhaps. Not when Lieutenant Hawkeye looks on the verge of crawling out of her own skin. 

"I didn't mean to interrupt your work-out." Winry takes a step back to give the lieutenant as much space as possible. “Rock on.” She gives an awkward thumbs up, before fleeing the scene. 

It feels like she only starts breathing again when she’s in the bathroom with her back pressed to the closed door.  _ Rock on, _ she thinks with some derision at herself,  _ what a dumbass thing to say. _ She hits the back of her head against the door without making any sound. 

She can’t shake the feeling that she really fucked this one up.

-

A shower feels like the most logical endpoint, and Winry spends about five minutes under the spray just slapping her own face with her hands in an effort to shake the tiredness from her body. She’s worked on less hours of sleep, and she has the feeling that a conversation with Hawkeye is just around the corner. The lieutenant may be a woman of few words, but those words often count for double. 

Still, Winry doesn't hurry. She takes her time washing her hair and lathering her body in soap, her mind never wavering from the image of the transmutation circle. As far as Winry is aware, the lieutenant is not an alchemist herself, so why she would tattoo anything of the sort on her own body is a mystery to her. 

What worries her more, however, are the scars that litter it. They seem almost deliberate, and the idea of someone burning the lieutenant’s body on purpose makes Winry feel sick. She can’t help but presume that this must have something to do with the civil war in Ishval, which inevitably brings Winry to thoughts of her parents.

For a moment, Winry turns up the heat on the water so that it scalds her skin, wakes her up further. 

It’s only once she’s out of the shower and toweling herself dry that she realizes she didn’t bring any fresh clothing into the room with her. She has three choices. She could put her old clothes back on, even though they're covered in automail grease; she could call out for the lieutenant and ask her to grab some underwear from her bag (absolutely not happening); or she could wrap a towel around herself, hurry into the living room, grab her stuff and shuffle back into the bathroom without encountering the other occupant of the apartment.

None of the choices are ideal, but Winry goes for option three: Walk out in a towel and hope for the best.

The towel is medium-sized, so while it covers everything, it's a little more revealing than Winry feels comfortable with, even though she frequently enjoys revealing clothing. That's on her terms and this is decidedly not. Still, she ventures into the hallway and quickly walks into the living room, stopping only when she notices Lieutenant Hawkwye sitting at the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in front of her.

Of course.

"Oh, Miss Rockbell," she says, keeping her eyes trained on Winry's face. 

"Just forgot to take some clean clothes in with me," Winry explains quickly, her ears burning with embarrassment. "You probably want to take a shower, too. I'll hurry."

The thing that makes Winry stumble and fall isn't technically White Rakurai. Instead, it's Black Hayate walking into White Rakurai and pushing her into Winry's trajectory that causes her to trip. One moment, she's longingly staring at her clothes rack, and the next she's flailing her arms and falling forward.

"Miss--Winry!" Hawkeye calls out just as Winry lands on her hands and knees, cursing loudly at the impact.

"Motherfu--" The hardwood floor is not kind to her, but what's even worse is Lieutenant Hawkeye kneeling next to her while keeping her gaze averted because the towel has come loose just a little bit.

"Are you okay?" Hawkeye asks, before she shrugs off the sweatshirt she's put on over her sports bra and covers Winry with it as best she can without taking her eyes off the ceiling.

"My hands and knees hurt like hell, but I think they'll be fine. My dignity, though? Not so much," Winry sulks as she pulls Hawkeye's jacket closer around herself so her breasts are covered. To add insult to injury, the jacket smells  _ nice. _ Familiar. Calming. "You have devil dogs, you know that? That's actually what I wanted to tell you when I interrupted your work-out. They're evil. They plot against me."

As if on cue, the dogs sit down next to Winry and thump their tails on the ground, psyched that the humans are on the floor with them.

"I'm so sorry about them. I'll get you some clothes, just stay where you are." Hawkeye jumps to her feet and hurries over to Winry's clothes rack, her huge back tattoo on full display, drawing Winry's attention all over again. And even though she's intensely curious, she's decided she won't ask what the whole thing is about. It's not her place to pry, especially if Hawkeye doesn't feel ready to share. "They're not usually like this with people they don't know very well."

"I guess I've been officially adopted," Winry sulks, poking Black Hayate's nose with the hand that isn't holding Hawkeye's jacket closed. "Lucky me."

Hawkeye returns quickly with a few pieces of clothing clutched in her arms. 

"I'll just leave this here and you can get dressed. Just get me from my room when you're done," Hawkeye offers, and when she receives a nod and a thumbs up from Winry, she hurries around her and down the hallway. It's only when the door shuts with a definitive click that Winry allows herself a moment to bury her face in her hands and take a deep, cleansing breath.

This is so  _ not _ how she wanted to be sort of naked in front of Lieutenant Hawkeye for the first time.

-

She puts on the thickest sweater and jeans combo she brought with her from Resembool so she doesn't feel naked anymore and even contemplates putting Hawkeye's sweatshirt on over it as an extra precaution. Instead, she spends three minutes standing in front of her clothes rack with her nose pressed against the dark blue material with her eyes closed, trying to reclaim her sense of dignity.

It doesn't work, but at least she can pretend for a few minutes that what just took place didn't actually happen. She should have known the first week going well was only an illusion. She was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Fifteen minutes pass before Winry goes to release the lieutenant from her room. And she's very careful not to trip over any more dogs as she walks along the hallway, which is tough because Winry's tumble has them very excited.

-

Somehow, Winry manages not to completely lose the rest of her dignity when she opens the lieutenant's door after having been allowed in. Even though Hawkeye is doing pull ups again, this time while facing the door and putting her abdominal muscles on full display.

Winry is not a fan of this arrangement.

Not openly, anyway.

They both apologize again, which is a bit ridiculous because neither of them are at fault, but the dogs sure aren't going to make the effort. Then, Winry disappears into the study, leaving Lieutenant Hawkeye to her own devices. She doesn't even make a stop to get a snack, because she just wants the whole situation to stop being a Thing for a moment, and automail never fails to take her mind off it.

It takes Winry roughly five minutes to realize she's putting bits of the transmutation circle on Hawkeye's back into her next schematic.

"Useless," she whispers to herself, before putting her head on the table and closing her eyes.

-

What feels like just five minutes later, Winry is shaken from sleep by a gentle hand on her shoulder, and a kind voice speaking to her from somewhere far away. "Miss Rockbell, you really shouldn't sleep here, it's murder on your neck and back," the voice says softly, before the fingers squeeze ever so tenderly. 

"Just five more minutes," Winry mumbles, feeling for the moment as though the desk she has her face on is the softest pillow she's ever felt. Sadly, the longer her shoulder is squeezed, the less this feeling lasts. "Don't be mean."

The voice chuckles, before the hand moves to Winry's back. "Alright, it's your decision." Then, Winry feels her hair being brushed behind her ear, before all contact is withdrawn, which she realizes isn't actually any better.

"Wait," Winry groans, before pushing herself into a sitting position. "What time is it?"

"It's closing in on twelve. I thought you might be hungry." Hawkeye sits down next to Winry on a chair she pulls over, and now that Winry's eyes are actually open, she can see that the other woman is wearing another sleeveless black turtleneck that covers all the spots Hawkeye doesn't discuss about herself.

As if on cue, Winry's stomach rumbles.

"I didn't have any breakfast," she defends herself, looking down at the schematics she's slept on. Thankfully, she didn't drool. Redoing schematics is fine, but it's also a waste of good paper. 

"If you're in the mood for it, I could make you some breakfast for lunch," Hawkeye suggests, before her eyes fall down to the schematics as well. Her jaw tightens for just a second, before it loosens again. Clearly, she recognizes what Winry has scribbled from memory.

"Lieutenant," Winry starts, but the woman lifts her hand.

"It's fine," she says, as she gets back to her feet. "We can talk about it, if you want. I don't mind." Her expression looks anything but fine with the topic, so Winry isn’t quite sure what the responsible thing would be to do in this situation. Let the lieutenant talk about a painful topic or deny her the opportunity to share. 

“Maybe after lunch,” Winry finally says weakly, clutching the jacket she realizes is still on her lap. 

“Alright,” Hawkeye agrees, giving Winry a smile, though it looks a little more forced than it usually does. “Are you in the mood for anything specific? I could try my hands at scrambled eggs and bacon?”

Pushing herself to her feet, Winry finally hands Hawkeye’s jacket back over to the other woman.

“I’ll help.”

-

Hawkeye cracks the eggs while Winry cuts the bell peppers into little square pieces. They don't really talk, save for the occasional comment about what to prepare next, but Winry isn't sure if it's a comfortable silence for the lieutenant. It certainly isn't for her.

Once the eggs and veggies are being scrambled in the pan and the bacon strips are sizzling, Winry doesn't quite know what to do with her hands after washing and drying them. It's a conundrum, especially because she's not the one holding the spatula. 

She must have fidgeted one too many times, because Lieutenant Hawkeye looks over to her and gives her an odd look, almost as though she's analyzing Winry's face for something. She either finds what she's looking for or she doesn't, but it seems to satisfy nonetheless. 

"Do you want to ask me anything?" she says, turning her eyes back to the two pans in front of her. This does not help Winry's unoccupied hands, so she ends up crossing her arms over her chest in lieu of anything else to do. 

"I don't want to ask for things you don't want to tell me," Winry says diplomatically, leaning her hips against the kitchen counter. "I didn't get the impression you felt comfortable when I walked in on your work-out."

Hawkeye moves the spatula in the eggs a little clumsily. "I was surprised," she admits, before she starts turning the bacon strips. "It's been a long time since I've had to explain it to another person."

The  _ it _ hangs heavy in the air.

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to." She sees the stiffness to the lieutenant's shoulders, the tense muscles of her calves. "It's none of my business. I really don't--" She only stops talking when Hawkeye looks at her with those intense brown eyes.

"I trust you," she says, and it's the expression on her face that truly drives the point home for Winry. "It's a secret I don't mind sharing with you. It all happened a long time ago."

Ever so slightly, Winry's crossed arms loosen.

"I didn't think you practiced alchemy," she says, unsure of how best to proceed. She wants to tell Hawkeye that she trusts her, too, but something tells her this isn't the moment for a mutual admiration confession party. 

"I don't," Hawkeye confirms what Winry thought she knew, her eyes straying back to the food to keep it from burning. "But my father was an accomplished alchemist, as you know. He's the only one who has ever been able to truly understand flame alchemy."

A furrow appears between Winry's eyebrows.

"Did he--" She starts, swallowing thickly in between words. "Did he put those scars on your back?" Her fingers tremble as she keeps them fisted in her sweater. She feels the urge to touch, but is unsure if the attempt would be welcome.

"No," Hawkeye reassures her, the shadow of a grimace crossing her lips. "No, he tattooed the transmutation circle on my back." She carefully moves the pieces of bacon to a plate. "And then after Ishval, I asked General Mustang to burn it."

It's a deceptively simple sentence, but it nearly knocks the breath from Winry's lungs as she imagines Mustang standing behind Hawkeye and using his flame alchemy on his own friend. It's enough to finally make Winry reach out, although she only barely grazes the other woman's left tricep with her fingertips.

"Why would you do that?" It's nearly a whisper, her eyes lingering on the material of Hawkeye's turtleneck. "Why would you…"

Hawkeye pours the scrambled eggs into a bowl.

"You know what the general can do with his powers when he has a single target to attack? You have no idea what it looks like when he sets a hundred people at once on fire." Her words are hollow, her gaze the same level of detached that Winry has learned to spot whenever they talk about Ishval. "My father didn't once think about the consequences when he unveiled the secrets of flame alchemy, but I saw them firsthand. Having a burnt back was a small price to pay for ensuring there will never be another Hero of Ishval."

She turns off the stove and Winry takes the opportunity to wrap her arms around the woman and pull her into an embrace. It's probably not appropriate, and she's not sure how wanted the affection is, but she doesn’t know what else to do.

"I'm so sorry," she says, careful not to dig her nails into the lieutenant’s back as she presses her palms against her. “I’m so, so sorry.” Eyes squeezed shut, she holds her cheek against Hawkeye’s shoulder and waits for the other woman to hug her back. Which, eventually, she does.

“Thank you,” Hawkeye says slowly, before her left hand comes to rest against the back of Winry’s neck, her fingers sliding through her blonde hair and causing goosebumps to break out on Winry’s arms. “It’s in the past.”

Winry isn’t quite so sure that it is, but she doesn’t dare refute the statement. She isn’t sure how much of that sentiment is holding the lieutenant together and she isn’t willing to poke at it. This isn’t her trauma, after all. 

“Thank  _ you,” _ she says instead, before pulling back just far enough to be able to look Hawkeye in the eyes. “Thank you for telling me all of that.” She slides her hands to the other woman’s shoulders and holds them there. “I truly appreciate it.”

“No need.” Hawkeye draws her fingers from Winry’s neck down her right arm and leaves them on her wrist, her thumb sliding back and forth. “You were going to see it one of these days.” After a final squeeze, she lets go of Winry’s wrist, who drops her hands back to her side. “Now, you should really eat something.” A sparkle has returned to her eyes, and Winry wants to hug her again, but manages to refrain.

And she'd rather the eggs and bacon that Lieutenant Hawkeye made for her don’t grow cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that towel drop tho. who doesn't love a good towel drop
> 
> hope you liked!
> 
> thanks to my pal PlushPanda for taking the time to look this over ♥
> 
> come find me on tumblr at goshdarnitjay if you wanna chat or support me


	6. a favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> work is a nightmare and i am very sorry for the delay
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Things don’t  _ really  _ change between them.

The second week goes by in much the same way as the first. 

Winry spends most of her time in the automail shop, working on her own projects, and she still walks to and from work with Lieutenant Hawkeye. She still makes her lunch, although the lieutenant doesn’t seem surprised at the gesture anymore. 

The time they’re at home is different now, however. 

Lieutenant Hawkeye no longer makes an effort to wear turtlenecks, for one, which leads to Winry developing an ever-present urge to draw her fingers along the thick scar that lines the lieutenant’s neck. She doesn’t, because she thinks it would be rude, but her fingers itch every time Hawkeye stretches to reach something and the scar turns white from the strain. 

Then, there’s the fact that Hawkeye no longer restricts her workouts to times when Winry is asleep, which presents somewhat of a challenge for her. There’s more than one moment where Winry is reading the latest edition of her favorite automail magazine on the couch when the lieutenant leaves her room in nothing but her sports bra and her workout shorts to get herself a glass of water, leaving Winry to stew in the gay mess of her emotions when she goes back. 

And finally, there’s the  _ touching. _

Of course, Hawkeye has squeezed her shoulder or her arm before, but this is a different level of touch that Winry is not used to from the other woman. 

More than once, Hawkeye seeks her out in the study after work to hang out while Winry works on her automail, before somehow getting the idea that Winry’s shoulders need a massage. And the sensations are too pleasant for Winry to get much done after that. 

Now, in the mornings, while they’re having breakfast, Hawkeye will set a cup of coffee in front of Winry and run a hand along her shoulders for just a moment, seemingly just to reassure herself that Winry is there. 

Once, she even helps Winry button her uniform jacket when they’re running late. 

It’s confusing, though not unwelcome. 

In fact, Winry rather feels like she’s starting to enjoy this intimacy just a little too much. 

-

Friday night, after they’ve had a quick dinner, Winry is back in the study again. White Rakurai and Black Hayate are on a blanket by her feet, snoring away in a pile of fluffy comfort. She’s putting some finishing touches on an automail hand that her Granny had sent to her at the start of the week. One of their regular customers has brought it in, someone who has always requested Winry as the one to work on her limbs. 

Winry has her magnifying glasses clipped to her face under a pair of thick goggles and is holding her smallest welding torch. 

“Come on, now,” she whispers to herself and the dogs as she tries to find the perfect spot to weld. With hands, she has to be especially careful. Hands need to be dexterous and complex, much more so than calves or biceps. “There you are, you little.” She sticks her tongue out of the side of her mouth and is just about to activate the torch, when there’s a knock on the office door.

“Come in,” she calls out, just as she lights the torch and welds the final piece of metal in just the proper place. Clicking off the torch, she looks over to the door, the magnifying glasses causing a distortion to Hawkeye’s amused expression. “What’s up?”

Hawkeye laughs.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something. I usually do this on my own, but it’s always a pain,” she says, taking a step inside. Only once Winry takes off the goggles and glasses does she see that Hawkeye is holding a small container in her hand. 

“What do you need?” Winry asks as she strips off her thick gloves and gives Hawkeye an encouraging smile. “I just got done fixing this hand.”

“Ah, yeah, I remember,” Hawkeye says with a look of recognition. After another nod, she looks down at the container and there’s the slightest dusting of red across her features the next time she looks up. “I was hoping you could help me put this salve on my back. It’s a huge pain to reach there myself.”

Blood immediately pumps loudly in Winry’s ears at the thought of touching the lieutenant’s naked back with her bare hands. Before she can say anything, she feels like she has to beat down the gayness with a stick, and she tries not to look too eager when she nods.

“Of course,” she says, scratching at the bandana that’s keeping her hair out of her eyes. “You want to do it here, or?” 

Hawkeye shakes her head.

“I’d rather do it in my bedroom, if that’s okay for you?” she asks, pointing behind her and into the hallway. “I’m not sure how sanitary it is in here since you started greasing up the place.” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice, and Winry feels herself break out of the shock and stare she’s adopted by laughing.

“Alright, alright, I see how it is.” She takes off the bandana and throws it next to her gloves, before getting up, walking past Hawkeye and out of the room. “I guess I better wash my hands before I touch your back, then?”

“That would be appreciated,” Hawkeye replies with a smirk, before she walks towards her bedroom, leaving Winry with a warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach. 

-

Once her hands are washed, Winry joins Hawkeye in her bedroom, and she’s unsurprised to find her there without a shirt on. At least the other woman is still wearing a bra, and Winry wonders if she’s meant to work around it or not. She’s not sure which scenario she prefers.

“Dirty mechanic is clean, Lieutenant,” Winry announces with a salute, which draws a smile from Hawkeye.

“Good work, Corporal.” There’s something tentative about the way she moves as she sits down on her bed with her back to Winry. She gathers her hair up and clips it together in the same hairdo she always wears at work. It reveals the tattoo and the scars in their entirety and Winry hesitates before walking over as well.

“May I?” she asks, pointing at the bed and waiting for Hawkeye's assent.

“Of course.” Hawkeye hands her the container with the salve once Winry has sat down. “Would it make you uncomfortable if I took off my bra?” She isn’t looking at Winry as she says it, and Winry wonders if a woman as formidable as the lieutenant could ever feel embarrassed in front of someone like her. 

“No, no, go ahead,” Winry tries to reassure her, even though she feels her heart nearly burst from her chest. She doesn’t really need the visual of Hawkeye undressing in front of her; she already has enough inappropriate dreams as is. 

It feels intimate, when Hawkeye pulls off her bra and places it in her own lap, finally looking behind herself and at Winry. 

“I have to put this salve on them so they stay loose. They’re old scars, but they’re very big, and I can’t risk losing mobility.” Her brown eyes show her vulnerability, and Winry brings a tentative hand to the other woman’s upper back. “Thank you for doing this, Winry.”

“Of course,” she nearly whispers in response as she finally unscrews the lid of the salve. It smells faintly of jasmine and is of a sheer white color. “I imagine this must usually take you a while.”

“And a lot of contorting,” Hakweye confirms, shivering just a little when the salve on Winry’s fingers first makes contact with her skin. Her back is equally as warm as her hands, and Winry wonders if her body temperature has anything to do with the fact that her father was a flame alchemist.

Trying to keep her fingers steady, Winry gently massages the salve into the first burn. It cuts into the top right corner of the transmutation circle and obscures a large part of it. Instinctually, she places her free left hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder, her cheeks flushing when Hawkeye reaches up to hold it.

“Do you understand it? The circle?” Winry asks, brushing her thumb almost tenderly across the edge of the burn and partially onto the tattoo. “Could you recreate it, if you really felt like it?”

“My father taught me everything he knows, but I have tried to forget as much of it as I can. I suppose I could still write it down if I tried.” She shivers again when Winry moves her fingers along her side to where the burn reaches slightly past her back. “General Mustang would be a better candidate for it.”

Humming softly, Winry resists the urge to lay a kiss against the center of the circle and instead squeezes Hawkeye’s shoulder. 

The texture of the scar tissue is soft to the touch, likely because Hawkeye has taken good care of it, and Winry takes her time in applying the salve. She makes sure each section of skin is covered properly.

“I hated alchemy for a long time after Ed and Al lost their bodies to it,” she says freely, feeling it’s only fair that she share some of her own pain and open herself a little. “I couldn’t understand why anyone would spend their time on something so destructive.” Her fingers glide along the last bit of scar tissue, right under Hawkeye’s left shoulder blade. “I still don’t, sometimes.”

“Like most things, it’s a means to an end.” Hawkeye straightens her back and looks back at Winry. “But those ends aren’t always bad. My father didn’t intend for his alchemy to be used for war; he was only ever interested in learning its secrets.” She shrugs softly. “But just like anything, just like my guns, it can be used to protect the ones you love or to hurt the ones you hate. Sometimes both.”

"I suppose it's the same with automail. Captain Whitworth and I have been looking into the automail weaponry from Fort Briggs." Winry knows she's done applying the salve, but she still spends a few moments longer stroking the scar tissue. "You know, Ed once told me that my hands weren't meant for hurting, but for healing instead. I don't know if I can keep that thought alive now that I'm here with the military."

Drawing her forefinger through the salve one last time, Winry lifts her hand to apply it to the scar on Hawkeye's neck. Without hesitation, Hawkeye's body turns further towards her, though Winry doesn't look down to see what might be revealed to her. 

"If anyone higher up in the ranks ever asks you to do something you feel would be unethical, please tell me or General Mustang," Hawkeye offers, turning her face fully so they can make eye contact. "It's like Sergeant Elric said. We're part of the system so we can change it. That includes me, the General, and our unit." 

"I will," Winry promises, her eyes falling down to Hawkeye's lips. They're close, she suddenly realizes, much closer than she ever remembers them being. "And if you need something from me, don't hesitate to ask." Her words sound breathy and weak to her own ears, her hand finally no longer moving and simply resting on the lieutenant's neck. "Anything."

She feels the gentle brush of air from Hawkeye's breathing on her lips, wetting them with her tongue almost in anticipation. She's not sure if they're moving closer to one another or if they're staying still.

All she knows is that she wants to kiss the lieutenant, that she's never wanted to be close to anyone as much as this. 

Her eyelids droop a little as her right hand slides along the other woman's back.

"Riza," she whispers, unsure what she means to convey with the word, with a name she hasn't said aloud in eleven years.

It breaks whatever spell the lieutenant seems to have been under, because she draws away and turns back around. Not abruptly, but deliberately, and Winry feels off balance and out of sorts as she watches Hawkeye put her bra back on.

"Thank you for your help," she says, giving Winry a friendly smile over her shoulder before reaching down to the floor and picking up a white blouse. "You've saved me a lot of time."

With a blink, Winry feels the salve being taken from her lap.

"Um, sure, no problem." She follows Hawkeye's lead and quickly gets to her feet, averting her eyes from the lieutenant as she does up her blouse. "I'll go back to the study, if there's nothing else?"

Even though nothing of note has truly taken place, she feels like she's been rejected, and the feeling only grows when Hawkeye nods in agreement.

"No, that's it. Thanks for the favor." 

There's an odd quality to the tone of her voice that Winry hasn't heard before. It's somehow more detached than their various discussions about Ishval. 

Without much else to say, Winry nods, too, before turning around and entering the hallway. She's back in the study already by the time she realizes she should have probably washed her hands again if she wants to touch any automail parts. But strangely, she isn't in the mood for automail at all. Instead, she fiddles with the small radio Hawkeye keeps in there and turns up the sound just enough to be barely audible.

A moment later, she's on the blanket with White Rakurai and Black Hayate, and she acutely feels just how much she misses Den. In an effort to stem the tide of confusing emotions, she puts her face on Black Hayate's stomach and closes her eyes.

Time to forget the sweet smell of jasmine mixed with Hawkeye's gentle perfume.

-

Roughly thirty minutes after she’s sought refuge on the floor, there's a knock on the study door, and Winry has half a mind to ignore it. 

"Come in," she says instead, her voice muffled by the dog fur she's still nuzzled into. It's really not Hawkeye's fault that she feels so blue now. She asked Winry for help with her wound care; she certainly didn't ask her for unsolicited sexual feelings about the whole situation.

"I'm going out for a while," Hawkeye says from the doorway, her voice sounding almost normal. Almost. "I'm meeting Rebecca for a drink. If you go to bed early, I'll try not to wake you when I get back."

Winry doesn't look up. It feels petulant, but she doesn't care. 

She gives Hawkeye a thumbs up.

"Thanks for letting me know. Have fun." Maybe she sounds a little wooden as she says it, but she's pretty sure Hawkeye will survive a lackluster response just this once. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

There's a confused laugh from the door, followed by a  _ Goodnight, Miss Rockbell, _ before the door closes again and Winry is once again alone with her thoughts. Which is not great, because her thoughts are too loud and too annoying to deal with.

Black Hayate's stomach gurgles in agreement.

-

Hours later, Winry is indeed asleep by the time Hawkeye comes home. Sadly, her attempts to be quiet fail pretty definitively the moment she steps inside, seeing as the first thing she does is kick over the umbrella stand next to the door, which crashes to the ground so loudly that Winry sits upright on the couch like her hair has just been set on fire. 

"Shit," Hawkeye whispers to herself, though her voice is too loud and the door slams shut behind her when she hits her foot against it. "Fuck."

With a sigh, Winry gets to her feet. Time to get over herself and help out a friend.

"Are you alright, Lieutenant?" she asks into the darkness, holding onto the armrest of the couch to keep herself rooted to a spot she knows won't trip her up. "Can you turn on the light?"

"Miss Rockbell," the lieutenant slurs softly, before the living room is suddenly drenched in light, causing both of them to flinch. "You should be asleep."

With a noise of agreement, Winry blinks her eyes a few times to adjust to the instant change in brightness. When she feels reasonably certain she won't run straight into her clothes rack, she walks over to Hawkeye and takes in her appearance. 

Hair disheveled and eyes slightly unfocused, the lieutenant is swaying next to the door, clad in a black turtleneck, a jean jacket that looks like it's had something spilled on it, and a pair of skintight black pants that leave nothing to the imagination. She'd look nice, if she didn't also look so incredibly drunk.

"You look like you had a good time," Winry says as she gently takes Hawkeye's arm and pulls it across her shoulders so she can support her. "Maybe too good a time, hm?"

Hawkeye doesn't lean against her. Rather, she half slumps into Winry's side and presses her cheek down against Winry's hair. There's a strong smell of beer and Winry can guess what the stain on the lieutenant's jacket is.

"It would have been more fun if you'd been there," Hawkeye says, her nose nuzzling against Winry's head at an awkward angle. "But it also would have been bad. That's why I didn't ask you to come."

"It would have been bad?" Winry asks a little self-consciously as she starts guiding Hawkeye's unsteady feet towards the hallway. The dogs are still on the couch, thank the gods, so at least she doesn't have to worry about them causing another incident. Especially because Winry doesn't cherish the idea of sprawling onto a drunk Hawkeye in her half-naked state.

"Yeah," Hawkeye agrees with a nod, although her cheek is still smushed against Winry, making the whole thing feel kind of weird. "I needed to talk to Rebecca about stuff." Before Winry can feel sad about the fact that Hawkeye apparently thinks discussing certain things in front of her would be bad - an entirely valid concept that Winry wishes she  _ didn't _ feel sad about - Hawkeye curls her free hand around Winry's neck and presses a kiss against her head. "I missed you."

Cheeks growing hot with embarrassment, Winry awkwardly pats the other woman's back and tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. Hawkeye must really,  _ really _ be drunk.

"How much did you have to drink?" 

Hawkeye makes a few contemplative noises as they enter her bedroom. She tries using her right hand to count, but quickly seems to run out of fingers.

"I only had a few beers," Hawkeye says with a frown. "And a few shots." She wiggles her fingers again. "And some whiskey."

Winry shakes her head as she guides the woman down onto her bed in a sitting position. 

"You definitely had too much fun,” she mutters to herself as she turns towards the closet to try and find something comfortable for the lieutenant to sleep in. “Do you think you’ll be able to change by yourself?”

“Of course.” The answer is adorably serious, and Winry allows a smile to creep onto her lips. She’s just grabbing a t-shirt when she hears rustling from behind her and blanches. A quick look over her shoulder confirms what she was worried about; Lieutenant Hawkeye taking off her pants. 

“I meant,” Winry says, quickly turning back, “you should change without me here.”

She hears Hawkeye stumble a little, before there’s a thud of clothing on the floor.

“I don’t care if you see.” There’s more rustling, before presumably the jacket is dropped just as unceremoniously. “You already know everything ugly about me.” She makes the most adorable hiccuping sound, and Winry quickly grabs the softest pair of workout pants she sees as well as a plain white t-shirt.

“There’s nothing ugly about you,” she says, hoping some part of Hawkeye’s drunk brain will understand that she means it. Closing the closet door in front of her, she’s set to turn around, when she feels arms wrap around her naked stomach and a warm body press into her back. 

“You’re sweet,” Hawkeye murmurs, her cheek pressing against Winry’s bare shoulder. “And you smell nice.” She holds Winry close and far too gently for someone who isn’t in their right mind. “I’m so glad you’re staying here.”

Face heating uncontrollably, Winry tries not to move too much, because she feels that Hawkeye has removed her turtleneck and she doesn’t need the memory of her roommate’s naked stomach rubbing against her back. 

Awkwardly, Winry drops her hand to Hawkeye’s right forearm and squeezes it. 

“You should really go to sleep, Lieutenant.” Her heart is racing a mile a minute, her body growing hot with the realization of just how underdressed she is with her midriff-baring, sleeveless black top and her tiny sleep shorts, and just how easy it would be to take everything off. She closes her eyes as she feels Hawkeye hold her tighter.

“I liked it when you said my name earlier,” Hawkeye tries to whisper, though her words come out louder than intended again. 

Swallowing thickly, Winry clutches the workout pants and t-shirt she’s picked out closer to her chest with her left hand. Hawkeye runs even hotter than usual due to the alcohol and Winry has to remind herself that this isn’t the time to take advantage of the lieutenant’s loose tongue.

“Riza,” she tries, wetting her lips the same way she had earlier. “You should go to bed.”

A hum is followed by Hawkeye nuzzling further into Winry’s neck.

“Yeah,” the verbal agreement follows, before Hawkeye finally withdraws her arms and lets Winry escape the heat of her embrace. Reluctantly, she turns around, keeping her eyes on Hawkeye’s face and holding out the clothing. Hawkeye smiles so gently she has to look away, lest she say something dumb. “Thank you, Winry.” 

Winry is on the verge of waving off her gratitude, when she freezes all over again at the sight of the lieutenant leaning down towards her. The kiss against her cheek smells of beer and something stronger, but Winry barely notices, because Hawkeye’s lips are soft on her skin, gentle in their clumsiness.

The moment lasts for only a few seconds before Hawkeye pulls away and stumbles back towards her bed, the clothing held loosely to her chest. Winry uses the lieutenant’s distraction to flee, muttering something about getting a glass of water.

Once she’s in front of the sink, she brings her fingers to her cheek, which is still tingling.

-

Getting Hawkeye to fall asleep isn’t actually all that difficult once everything is said and done. 

Winry returns to the bedroom to find the lieutenant’s bra on the floor as well, but at least she’s wearing the clothes Winry gave her. Mostly. She’s still struggling with the second pant leg, and Winry takes pity on her.

“There you go,” she says, studying the blue sweatpants with satisfaction. “Now drink this.” She pushes the big glass of water she’s set down into the lieutenant’s hands and watches as she chugs it down. “That’ll help with your headache in the morning.”

When Hawkeye’s hands threaten to reach out again, Winry clasps them in her own and gently forces the other woman to lie down on her bed. 

“Sleep,” she says a little sternly, tugging the blanket on over Hawkeye, who has an almost dreamy look on her face. “On your side, please. I don’t want you to choke, if you wake up puking.”

A smile is Winry’s sweet reward for her care, and a sleepily mumbled  _ yes, ma’am, _ which makes her blush all over again. 

“Will you be okay in here?” Winry asks as she gives into the urge to brush Hawkeye’s hair out of her forehead. She follows it up with her thumb rubbing gently along the other woman’s temple, gratified when Hawkeye closes her eyes. “Do you want me to send one of the dogs in to cuddle with?”

Making a pleased little noise, Hawkeye pulls the blanket closer to her face. 

“I’d rather cuddle with you,” she mumbles, and when she opens her eyes, Winry can’t help but notice how open and vulnerable those brown irises look as they gaze up at her. “Can you sleep here with me?”

It’s not a good idea. 

In fact, it’s a  _ terrible  _ idea, and she’s on the verge of saying no, when Hawkeye grabs her wrist and gives her the sweetest, most innocent look she’s ever seen on a grown adult. She’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol.

“Please, Winry?”

With a sigh, Winry rubs her own temple.

“Let me just turn off the lights in the living room.”

When she hears Hawkeye’s happy little hum of agreement, she knows she’s been had. And yet, she can’t help a soft smile spreading across her own lips. 

-

Thankfully, by the time Winry returns to Lieutenant Hawkeye’s bed, the woman is already asleep. 

Or, rather, passed out. 

“Finally,” she says to herself, breathing a sigh of relief. She’s not at all equipped to deal with her crush on a good day, but especially not when said crush has had a few too many and is spouting nonsense that threatens to give Winry hope. Bad idea.

She tugs the blankets around Hawkeye’s shoulders and ponders her next move. 

Go back to the couch or stay? 

She allows herself another moment to stroke Hawkeye’s hair and temple. 

With her mind continually returning to that vulnerable expression on the other woman’s face, Winry makes her decision pretty easily, and goes to turn off the light in the room. Then, she slides under Hawkeye’s blanket and curls up on the other side of the bed.

The pillow she uses smells of Hawkeye.

“Goodnight, Riza,” she whispers, and closes her eyes, falling asleep to the steady breathing of the woman behind her. 

-

Saturday morning, Winry wakes late. 

She’s grown quite used to getting up early for her new job, but today feels different. She’s warm and snuggly with a pleasant weight holding her down, and when she turns her head to the side, her nose is met with a head of hair that smells familiar and comfortable. 

“Hmm,” she murmurs, circling her arms a little tighter around the warm weight and burying her nose in the hair. 

The weight murmurs back, and a pair of lips settles against Winry’s pulse point.

It takes just a few more seconds for Winry’s sleep-addled brain to realize she isn’t snuggling Den to her chest. Den doesn’t murmur. Den doesn’t have  _ lips.  _

Eyes flying open, Winry looks down to find a blonde head of hair tucked against her neck. She can’t see under the blanket, but she can feel an arm wrapped around her midsection and a muscled thigh wedged against her own. 

“Eep,” she whispers, trying to remove her own arms from around Lieutenant Hawkeye’s slumbering form without waking her. It’s tough, because while Hawkeye is sleeping on her left side, White Rakurai has curled up against her right, and Black Hayate is somewhere on her feet. She’s well and truly trapped. She curses softly. 

Resigned to her fate, she leaves her arms where they are and simply stares at the ceiling, waiting for the inevitable moment of Hawkeye waking up and banning her from the apartment. At least she doesn’t have to pee - yet.

As she lingers, she allows herself a few minutes of pretense that this could be her future. Being curled up with Hawkeye in her bed with their dogs. She even dares to imagine a scenario where Den is with them, too. Just Winry, her cool girlfriend, and their three dogs. 

It’s a nice fantasy, and Winry indulges herself by tracing circles and squares with her fingers on Hawkeye’s right shoulder blade. 

She’s almost drifting off to sleep again when she feels Hawkeye stirring and hears her groan in pain. “Shit,” the woman grumbles out, before a hand appears from under the blankets and is pressed against her head. “What time is it?”

Winry glances at the bedside table and the clock that sits there.

“Almost twelve,” Winry replies cautiously, unsure if Hawkeye has realized that she is, in fact, talking to Winry in her bed, a place they don’t usually find themselves together. Ever. “You got home at around three.”

“I can’t remember the last time I slept until twelve.” Hawkeye still doesn’t seem to have noticed that she’s curled around Winry, and that she’s being held, but Winry doesn’t blame her. “I don’t remember walking into the apartment. Did I do anything embarrassing?”

Winry blushes.

“Oh, um, no,” she says quickly, keeping her hands completely still and trying not to think of that gentle embrace or that kiss on the cheek, or the way she’d looked at Winry right before asking her to stay. Nope. Besides, none of that was  _ embarrassing,  _ was it? “Not more than usual.”

Hawkeye snorts, before cursing again.

“Don’t make me laugh, my head feels like it’s a grenade just waiting to go off.” Finally, Hawkeye sits up, though she doesn’t move away from Winry. She sways a little, before laying right back down. “Okay, I’m not ready for verticality.” She doesn’t exactly snuggle back into Winry, but she also doesn’t make an effort to not curl back into her arms. 

“I can get you some painkillers from the medicine cabinet,” Winry offers, feeling bold and bringing her hand to Hawkeye’s temple and massaging it softly. “I made you drink a glass of water, but I don’t think it stood a chance against all the other stuff you drank.”

Reaching across Winry, Hawkeye digs her fingers into White Rakurai’s fur, causing the dog to let out a happy little whine. “This is why I don’t like going out with Rebecca. She always forgets we’re not twenty anymore. She doesn’t know how to slow down.”

Winry, who feels like she’s stumbled into a surreal parallel universe in which the two of them can carry a conversation while literally pressed against one another from head to toe, lets out a little snort of amusement. “I’m sure she was holding a gun to your head the whole time. You had no choice but to drink, Lieutenant.”

“Pretty much,” Hawkeye agrees lazily.

They spend a few minutes in comfortable silence, before Hawkeye draws her hand back from her dog and places it on the blanket instead, somewhere below Winry breasts. 

“This may sound rude, and I apologize in advance, Miss Rockbell,” the lieutenant says, sounding careful, though still making no move to disentangle herself. “But why are we in bed together?” 

_ How best to explain  _ that, Winry thinks.

“I hope you didn’t feel like you needed to put yourself out to make sure I wouldn’t die of vomit-induced asphyxiation,” Hawkeye continues, finally sounded the slightest bit uncomfortable at the thought of being a drunken mess around Winry.

The fingers of Winry’s right hand falter for a moment in their massaging of Hawkeye’s temple.

“No, no, it wasn’t that. You were stumbling and slurring a little, but still surprisingly coherent. And I made sure you didn’t fall asleep on your back.” Her toes wiggle a little as she thinks of how to phrase her next words without stuttering. “You... asked me to stay. I think your drunk brain was a little lonely. I hope it was okay that I did. Stay, I mean.”

She’s purposefully not looking at the lieutenant and keeps her eyes on the ceiling. 

“Ah.” Hawkeye brings her hand to her head and rubs at her forehead. “Yes, I’ve been told I can become quite needy when I’ve had a bit too much to drink.” She tries sitting up one more time, and though she sways again, she stays upright. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable in any way. Thank you for taking care of me.”

Following her example, Winry sits upright, before laying her hand on Hawkeye’s back.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Lieutenant. I was worried I’d make  _ you  _ uncomfortable.” She traces the places on the t-shirt she knows are hiding the burn scars, careful to keep her touch soft. “I hope I didn’t overstep any bounds by deciding to stay.”

“No, Miss Rockbell. No, you’re lovely,” Hawkeye says almost absentmindedly, and Winry’s heart stutters in her chest.  _ Lovely, _ she thinks,  _ you’re the one who’s lovely, Riza. _ An instant later, Hawkeye’s sliding off the bed. “I’ll see if a shower can make me feel like a human being again. Would you mind terribly starting the coffee?”

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Winry agrees, her chest feeling warm and gooey as she watches Hawkeye step over her clothes and towards the closet. “Do you think your stomach is ready for food? Just something light?”

“I’m not sure,” Hawkeye replies honestly, seemingly unperturbed by just how domestic this whole situation is becoming. 

Winry finds that she doesn’t mind at all.

-

They spend the rest of their Saturday on the couch watching television and reading magazines. 

When it grows dark outside and Winry feels herself becoming tired, she slumps down against Hawkeye’s side and rests her head on the lieutenant’s shoulder. In response, Hawkeye wraps an arm around her and holds her. 

It’s a blissful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kill me my muse is dead again at least thing this is finished
> 
> please comment if you enjoyed it
> 
> unbetad, all mistakes are mine
> 
> if you want to support me, find me on tumblr @goshdarnitjay


	7. a mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year, everybody! hope you had a good time during the holidays.
> 
> guess how i spent my new year's eve (hint: working)
> 
> hope you enjoy! xoxo

“Captain, can you hand me the Forty-four eight iron?” Winry asks from her perch over the automail leg she’s working on. Her hand is stretched out to the left, where Whitworth is working on his own project. The radio is playing some inoffensive music and the windows are open, letting in a soft breeze.

“Of course, Corporal,” Whitworth replies without looking up, handing Winry the tool. “Would you be so kind as to pass me screwdriver three four?”

“Absolutely.” Winry grabs the tool and passes it across. 

A bird lands on the windowsill next to them and picks at a feeder that Whitworth has set up there for exactly that purpose. They both look up and watch the small fluffy ball of feathers pick at a few seeds before flying off again. 

They’re both still looking towards the window, hopeful that the bird will return, when someone knocks on the doorframe.

“I see, this is what people mean when they tell me the automail mechanics are hard at work,” a voice behind them says that Winry recognizes instantly. A look confirms the smiling form of Lieutenant Hawkeye, and Winry can’t stop herself from returning the expression.

“What brings you down here, Lieutenant?” she asks with a mock-salute, pushing her magnifying glasses up onto her head. "You playing hooky? What would General Mustang say."

Hawkeye's smile doesn't falter.

"The General is very busy," she says diplomatically, although they both know Mustang would, if anything,  _ approve _ of Hawkeye doing something she's not supposed to on military time. "I was hoping you could unweld yourself from your work just long enough to have lunch with me in the courtyard."

For a few seconds, Winry pretends to think about the offer, before finally sliding off her gloves.

"I guess I can free up some space in my schedule," she says regally, dropping her magnifying glasses onto the desk behind her. "As long as Captain Whitworth doesn't mind spending a few minutes by himself. Bird watching is a serious job."

"I'll survive." He looks in between them and a little smile takes root on his lips. "Enjoy your lunch, ladies."

"Thank you, Captain," Hawkeye says, finally walking over so she can hold up Winry's uniform jacket for her. Riza gives her a soft look. "Can't have you walking around out there half-naked." 

Looking down at the black tank top she's wearing, Winry gives a little shrug before she slides into the sleeves of her jacket. “Might improve the atmosphere, if you ask me.” She grabs her tote bag and slings it across her shoulder. In all honesty, she feels more like leaving the jacket than anything else, but she supposes decorum would prevent her.

Riza takes a step closer and starts buttoning it, her hands moving efficiently without once touching Winry stomach or chest. Still, the help makes Winry blush a little. 

“There, now you’re presentable again,” Riza says quietly enough to almost make it a whisper.

Winry doesn’t look at Whitworth as they leave the shop.

-

Ever since the homunculi have been defeated, several seating options and tables have been placed in the courtyard to increase the feeling that the military has become a more welcoming and friendly force. The gesture feels flaccid to Winry, who still feels that dismantling the whole thing would be a far more friendly thing to do. 

Still, they find a table in the sun and sit down, and she can’t help but notice that Hawkeye has specifically picked a table that’s out of earshot from anyone else. She doesn’t bring it up as they sit down and take out their lunches.

“It sure is a nice day out.” Winry opens up her plastic container to unveil the risotto she made yesterday and pulls a fork from her tote bag. Giving the lieutenant a calculating look, she decides to ignore decorum and get straight to the point. “You don’t usually come downstairs to have lunch, do you? Is this a special occasion?”

With a hum, Hawkeye pulls open her own plastic container to reveal her portion of the risotto. It’s cold, but it’s still so  _ good. _ Granny’s special recipe.

“I didn’t want you to hear the news from anyone else,” she says, taking her own fork into her hand and stabbing a piece of mushroom with it. She looks contrite, and yet her posture is as immaculate as ever. “General Mustang has been summoned to the Southern border for peace negotiations.” 

The fork in Winry’s hand stops midway to her mouth, hovering in the air.

“You’re being deployed?” she asks, heart pumping faster and faster at the prospect of Riza being on the front lines again. Immediately, her parents faces flash before her eyes. “When? How bad is the situation?”

Riza drops her fork so she can reach out and touch Winry’s wrist.

“We’re not  _ technically  _ being deployed,” she tries to reassure Winry, her voice steady. “There is no official word on a conflict taking place. This is merely a precaution. We’re there to negotiate with Aerugo and to ensure there are no unrests.” 

Anxiety taking root in her stomach, Winry puts down her fork and straightens her shoulders.

“Riza, you’re being  _ deployed  _ into a brewing war between two sovereign nations. Nothing about this is a technicality,” she whispers furiously, conscious of the fact that it’s highly inappropriate to be addressing her superior by her first name. Especially on military grounds. She pulls her wrist from Hawkeye’s grip.

Riza folds her hands in front of her on the table, looking like she’s settling into some diplomatic talks of her very own. 

“There’s a ninety-five percent chance we won’t see any combat. We’re simply accompanying the General to ensure there are no attempts on his life.” Her voice sounds dull and unpracticed, and Winry wonders when the last time was that the woman has had to explain her decisions to another person in her life. “There’s no reason to worry. We all know what we’re doing.”

Her last sentence doesn’t help Winry’s anxiety one iota.

“My parents told me not to worry when they left, too.” Her voice grows evermore quiet, but before Hawkeye can say anything in response, Winry lifts her hand. “I know it’s your job and you have to go, but please, Riza.  _ Please. _ Just promise me you’ll be careful.” She looks down at the table. “I’m out of practice when it comes to worrying about the people I care about. I don’t want to lose another person I...”

She only looks up when Hawkeye reaches out with both hands to grab her own. 

“Winry,” she says seriously, her brown eyes flickering with something altogether unfamiliar. “I can’t promise you that nothing bad is going to happen. The situation at the border is dangerous, no matter what the higher-ups say.” Her grip on Winry’s fingers is strong, but not crushing. It’s steady, reassuring. “But I  _ can  _ promise you that our team is ready for this mission.” Her eyes drift down to their joined hands. “You won’t lose me.”

Hoping that no one is watching, Winry brings Riza’s hands to her heart and holds them there.

“I just need you to remember that there are people waiting for you to come home.” When she lifts her eyes, she sees that there is a dusting of red across the back of Hawkeye’s nose and cheeks. 

Somehow, this unguarded expression of surprise only makes her look more beautiful. 

-

There’s no big delay on the deployment, and Winry is upset to find that the time only seems to speed up once she knows that Riza will be on her way to the Southern border on Wednesday morning. She’s not even sure that Tuesday truly happens it goes by so quickly. 

She can hardly concentrate on the automail at the workshop, but Captain Whitworth has clearly heard about the situation by the time Tuesday morning rolls around, because he only gives her a hug. Pre-approved by Winry, of course. He seems to know instinctively what the issue is, because he invites her over for dinner with his husband after Hawkeye has gone. 

Winry does not go to the train station to see Riza and the others off. 

Instead, the two of them say their proper goodbyes the evening before. There are no tears involved, thankfully, but Winry still holds the other woman for longer than might be considered appropriate. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here while you’re gone?” Winry’s cheek is pressed against the lieutenant’s shoulder and her fingers clutch at the black top Riza is wearing. She smells so familiar at this point that it lulls Winry into a false sense of security. Tomorrow, that scent is going to disappear for who knows how long, and she’s not ready to deal with its absence. Not one bit.

“I insist,” Hawkeye says, brushing her hand through Winry’s hair and laying her cheek against her head. “I know Haya and Raku would miss you, and I personally feel more comfortable knowing you’re taking care of them.” Her left hand is placed on Winry’s lower back, holding her steady and close. “And I’ll feel better knowing you have a safe place to come home to after work.”

Pulling back just slightly, Winry looks up at Riza, before cupping her cheek and leaning up. “Thank you,” she whispers, closing her eyes just before her lips touch Hawkeye’s skin. It’s a lingering kiss, soft and warm, and Winry doesn’t bother blushing as she pulls away from Riza’s cheek to find a little bit of her lip gloss has been left behind. “Thank you, Riza.”

They don’t say much after that. 

It’s already late and Hawkeye has to be up and about at five. 

She leaves early, before Winry even wakes. And yet somewhere in the recesses of Winry’s mind, she feels as though there was a kiss brushed to her head and a hand gently caressing her hair. A memory half-formed that she’s not quite sure is a dream.

-

It takes until Wednesday afternoon after work for the knowledge that Hawkeye is  _ really  _ gone to fully sink in. It’s at the point where Winry is back from walking the dogs and is set to start on dinner that she realizes there are no rustling noises anywhere else in the apartment. No sounds of Hawkeye going through paperwork she should have left at the office; no weights being lifted and replaced; no washing of hands in the sink of the bathroom; no steps across the hallway. 

“This is the worst,” she says to Black Hayate who’s sitting next to her, because he knows Winry sometimes can’t help herself from feeding him ingredients for her dinner. She crouches down and wraps her arms around his neck to give him a hug. “Do you miss her as much as I do?”

She’s just about closed her eyes when she feels a wet nose nudge her side.

“Oh, baby,” she says as she turns around so she can wrap her arm around White Rakurai, too. “I know. Me, too.” 

She spends fifteen minutes just petting the dogs and sitting on the floor with them. It helps, and she rewards them with a few treats from the bag Riza keeps in the corner of the topmost cupboard. 

“Let’s keep this between us, yeah? Your mom doesn’t need to know how hard this is for us. She needs to do her job.” Opening up the fridge, she wonders what would be easiest to do. She doesn’t really feel like making anything elaborate, especially since she won’t be able to put the leftovers in a box for Hawkeye to take to work. 

Morosely, she settles on making herself a quick sauce and boils some rice. 

To fill the silence, she turns on the television. 

Still, the apartment seems almost dead without Riza occupying it, and after dinner, she quickly gathers Black Hayate and White Rakurai and takes them with her into the study. Maybe if she tries redirecting her frustration into automail, she will eventually come up with a way out of her funk.

-

Around seven, she’s completely given up on pretending that she’s okay with the situation and has started doodling the tattoo on Hawkeye’s back again. She’s filled in whatever spots have been burned away with nonsense and has her cheek placed on her free hand.

She’s on the verge of calling Granny to whine to her about being lonely, when the phone next to her rings of its own volition.

Dropping the pencil, Winry picks up the receiver and brings it to her ear.

“Hawkeye residence, this is Winry speaking,” she says, wondering who would be calling at a time like this. 

A chuckle causes Winry to almost drop the phone.

“It’s only been a few hours and already I’ve been relegated to such formality?” Riza says, her gentle voice laying itself over Winry like a balm. “If I’d known that, I would have made you all come with me.”

“Riza.” Winry says her name almost like a prayer, and she’s not sure if she imagines the quiet intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Are you okay? Why are you calling? Did something happen already?”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Hawkeye reassures her quickly, and Winry can just imagine the steady expression on her face. “I was just relieved from my post by Lieutenant Breda and I figured I’d check in to see how you’re doing. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“I was just doodling,” Winry admits, looking down at the crude recreation of Hawkeye’s tattoo. “So, you really just wanted to check in? That’s sweet of you.”

The fact that they’re not directly opposite one another makes Winry feel bolder and less like she needs to worry about embarrassing herself. Besides, surely Riza picking up a phone and calling her  _ just because _ is a sign that Winry hasn’t just been imagining them growing closer. 

Hawkeye clears her throat.

A few seconds of silence follow, then Riza’s voice takes on a new, heretofore unheard quality that makes Winry feel just a little weak in the knees. “This may be inappropriate of me to say, but I hope you will allow me the indiscretion.” Another second. “I miss you. I wish I could be home with you instead of here.”

Cradling the receiver with both hands, Winry closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip. 

“This may be inappropriate of  _ me  _ to say,” she starts, imagining Hawkeye’s soft expression, “but I wish I could touch you.” 

This time, she’s sure she’s not imagining the intake of breath. 

“Miss Rockbell.” There’s shuffling on the other end of the line. “I will be home soon.”

There’s an intensity to her words that makes Winry feel hot under her collar. It’s a promise of  _ more  _ that has Winry crossing her legs and makes a blush of pleasure creep across her face. 

“Good,” she says, her voice rough with something akin to arousal. “I will accept nothing less, Lieutenant.”

-

The call lasts well into the night, though it doesn’t travel into such dangerous territory again. Instead, they talk about the situation at the border and about the people they’ve negotiated with so far. Mustang and Albatross have been doing most of the talking, of course, while Hawkeye and the rest of the team have been stationed in the background somewhere, keeping watch. So far, it doesn’t sound like a dangerous mission, but Winry knows situations like that can change at the drop of a hat. 

As she strips off her clothes to take a shower, she thinks about the brief interlude in which they’d spoken about Selim Bradley and wondered as to whether he was involved. As far as they know, he’s the only homunculus still on the planet. He’s monitored, of course, and so far he hasn’t shown any proclivity for violence, but the brass is still worried. After Father, Pride was the most dangerous of them all, and the most cunning. 

She’s on the verge of dropping her tank top in the laundry basket when she spots the sleeve of a military uniform poking out from inside it. It’s not one of Winry’s - there are too many stars on the lapel - so she tugs it free of the basket. She brings it to her nose and realizes it must be the last uniform that Hawkeye wore here before leaving that morning. 

Feeling only slightly weird about it, Winry softly folds the jacket and places it on the bathroom counter for later. 

Then, she finally drops her own clothes in the hamper. 

Her thoughts return to Hawkeye’s assignment and she dwells on it the entire time she’s under the spray of the water. The people at the Southern border seem nice, Hawkeye said, and she allows a moment of worry that Riza will find another woman more age-appropriate to warm her bed at night. 

There has been zero indication that Hawkeye would be interested in such an arrangement, and so she buries the thought under the memory of Riza promising to call again tomorrow around the same time. 

_ Sleep well now, Miss Rockbell, _ she had said right before hanging up, the timbre in her voice making Winry’s stomach fill with butterflies that have yet to settle. This whole thing is such a disaster that Winry’s not sure she’ll survive the next few days or possibly weeks. 

And then there’s the contract to worry about. 

Winry’s trial month is almost up. 

She only has a week left. Soon, she’ll have to decide if she wants to stay on with the military on a permanent basis or not, which also means she should start looking into housing herself. Her suggestion weeks ago of moving into the barracks doesn’t sound great and had been more of a panic reaction. She’s grown so used to being here that it sounds strange to have to go home to a different apartment. 

She twists off the water just as she imagines leaving Black Hayate and White Rakurai behind. It’s not a pleasant thought. 

And then there’s Riza. 

If she were here, she would no doubt tell Winry not to worry about finding her own place straight away. She would say that her apartment is big enough and that she and her dogs would be most unhappy if Winry decided to go. 

She shakes her head a little as she towels herself dry. 

Riza is too nice for her own good. 

Putting on her sleep shorts and her crop top, Winry lets her fingers glide across the lieutenant’s uniform jacket. Then, she pushes her shame aside and shrugs it on, pulling Hawkeye’s scent closer around her. 

On the way out of the bathroom, she glances towards the bedroom door, sitting ajar. 

_ No, _ she thinks.  _ No, that’d be too much. _

So she goes to sleep on the couch, nestled softly in the warm embrace of Riza’s jacket.

-

At least the phone call has brought Winry out of her funk.

Whitworth notices it, too, when she gets to work on Thursday morning. He smiles at her and she gives him a happy little salute before she shrugs off her jacket and gets to work. 

That morning before leaving, she briefly considered just putting on Hawkeye’s jacket, but then she remembered at the last second that the rank of  _ lieutenant  _ above her breast would have probably lead to some questions. So now the jacket sits safely out of doggy reach on the kitchen counter, folded into a neat little square. 

Winry only half-pays attention when Ed comes into the shop to discuss the latest gossip around the place, but she still kicks him when he teases her for looking off her game. She doesn’t, she got a wonderful night of sleep, so she knows he’s only trying to get a reaction out of her. But she doesn’t care. He deserves the kick. 

She only looks up properly when they start discussing the Southern border. 

“You’re not going there, too, are you?” Winry asks, putting down the welding torch in her hand and pushing up her protective mask. “Are they sending more people already? Lieutenant Hawkeye said they were there for peace negotiations. More troops doesn’t seem particularly peaceful.”

She already plots the best words to use to chew out Hawkeye for playing down the danger. 

“Corporal Nieuport told me they weren’t originally planning to send any more, but then Aerugo suddenly changed tact,” Ed explains, casually leaning against Whitworth’s work counter. “If you ask me, I think Aerugo asked to negotiate with Mustang specifically as a way for them to see if he’s as powerful as he was during Ishval.” He gestures to his own eyes, indicating Mustang’s blindness. “I think they wanted to see how well he’d do without his eyesight and how mobile he is. And now that they know he’s still as dangerous as ever, they’ve started stationing more soldiers at the border.”

Clenching her jaw, Winry rubs her temple. 

“That’s just fantastic,” she grumbles to herself, slipping off her gloves and slamming them down on the desk next to her. “So much for peace. Five years. It was nice while it lasted.”

Ed kicks her back.

“We’re not engaged in any war, yet! If Mustang does his job well, we might still get out of this thing without any bloodshed. And there’s no Envy this time to shoot a child.” He gives her an exasperated look. 

“Just the regular kind of human corruption, then,” Winry says with some disgust, wondering how the people in the military in Aerugo are feeling. There must be people like her and Ed, people who wish to reform the way their country is run. And yet they don’t seem to be in power, currently. She pulls herself away from those musings. “Are you going, then?”

“I might,” Ed admits, running a hand through his hair. “Al is still safe in Xing, but who knows how long that will last if Aerugo decides to declare war. I wouldn’t put it past Ling to send help if it came down to it. And then Xing would be declaring war on Aerugo and it would all be one giant mess.”

With some exasperation, Winry rubs her face with both hands, uncaring of the grease stains on them. “I don’t want to have to add you to the list of people I need to worry about,” she says through gritted teeth, massaging her temples. “It’s bad enough that Lieutenant Hawkeye is on the front lines.”

A look is shared between Ed and Whitworth that Winry doesn’t like, but before she can say anything, Ed is opening his big, dumb mouth again. 

“Your girlfriend is going to be just fine.” He looks unimpressed at her worries, and he doesn’t even have the self-preservation instinct to move away from her. “You haven’t seen her fight. I have. She survived having her throat cut open from front to back by a guy who was trained from birth to kill. If that doesn’t keep her down, a few rookie soldiers from Aerugo sure won’t.”

Seeing the expression taking root on Winry’s face, Whitworth claps Ed on the shoulder.

“It was nice knowing you, kid,” he says, right before Winry hits Ed upside the head, causing a comically large bump to grow there.

“You’re such an idiot, Edward Elric!” 

-

Thursday afternoon, Winry has the foresight to get herself some take-out on the way home to Hawkeye’s apartment. She wants to avoid the dreaded sight of the empty kitchen as much as she can. Walking the dogs goes by without much of a hitch, though Winry perhaps makes them walk a little faster than usual. She doesn’t want to miss Riza’s call, even though she still has a few hours until it’s seven. 

She eats her spicy fried noodles with veggies and chicken breast on the couch in front of the television, a dog on either side, her contract laying on the coffee table in front of her. 

It’s flipped to the page that describes the longevity of the next stage of her life if she decides to stay. 

The contract in front of her is technically unlimited, something most people would do almost anything to get. Sure, it has a clause about reevaluating after the five month mark, but it implies heavily that the renegotiation is more of a formality. She will never have to worry about not having a job anymore; she won’t have to be scared about not having enough money for housing or feeding herself. 

And yet, it’s still the military, the institution responsible for murdering millions of people. The place that’s currently gearing up for war  _ again. _ Of course the aggression is coming from a different country this time, but it’s not as though Amestris doesn’t carry part of the blame. They’ve colonized and taken over too many states to count, and now they’re reaping the rewards. 

“I’d have to be here for another five months before I could change my mind,” she says to the dogs as she sets her empty carton of Xingese take-out on the coffee table and takes the contract into her hands. Leaning back, she looks down at the demands of the military. “Five months.” She lazily rubs Black Hayate’s head. “Do you think your mom would let me live here for five months, hm? She probably would.” 

Putting the contract on her face, Winry closes her eyes and listens to the quiet murmuring of the television. 

In five months, who knows where their country will be.

Riza will be thirty-two then, and will likely only look more beautiful. If she survives her deployment to the front lines at Aerugo, and if the situation doesn’t escalate in the way Ed predicted earlier. Xing getting involved would likely do more harm than good. If Amestris seems weak enough to need the help of a foreign nation, then Drachma may get the wrong idea about the defensibility of Fort Briggs. And if they’re fighting a useless war on the Southern  _ and  _ Northern border, then they’ll really be in trouble. 

“This is such a mess,” she whispers to herself as she throws the contract across the room. It soars for a second before starting to sag instantly and landing in a sad pile at Winry’s feet. And what if  _ she’s  _ deployed?

What if King Grumman or one of the generals decides that she’d be more useful at the front lines, rather than at Central Command. There are local automail mechanics in every part of the country conscribed to work with the military, but what if the brass decides that’s no longer enough for them?

And if she leaves and goes back to Resembool, what then? How long until the war moves there?

Paralized with worry, Winry lies there for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, a hundred scenarios flying across her mind’s eye. Slowly but surely, she comes to the conclusion that there’s no good answer to this question. She feels like she’s screwed either way. There are bigger forces at play that she can’t control. 

None of this is helped by the fact that there are people in this military that she cares for, people she wants to keep safe more than she wants to keep herself safe. If Ed goes to the Southern border, and if Lieutenant Hawkeye is forced to stay there… Would Winry being deployed be such a bad thing?

_ I don’t want you to see what I saw. _

Riza’s words echo around Winry’s brain, bouncing back and forth between Winry’s desire to stay and to leave. _ _

_ I don’t want you to see what I saw. _

She’s not sure those words can continue to hold any meaning for her. It’s becoming increasingly more obvious to Winry that running away from what might be coming is more easily said than done. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh-oh, a new war is brewing. kinda like in real life *looks at the US and iran*
> 
> i would be really happy if you left a comment ♥
> 
> if you want to support me, find me on tumblr @goshdarnitjay


	8. friday night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like this chapter
> 
> i hope you all do, too!

“Hawkeye residence, this is Winry speaking.” 

She’s back in the study again, though this time she’s left Black Hayate and White Rakurai on the couch. When she picks up the phone that evening, she’s not doodling morosely. In fact, she isn’t doodling at all. 

Instead, she’s hard at work on an array of new automail ideas. If she wants change to be implemented in the military, she’ll have to work on it from the inside, she’s decided. And if she’s to stay on with them, she sees no reason why she can’t start straight away. Especially if they’re set to go to war.

“Winry, hey, it’s Riza,” Lieutenant Hawkeye says, her voice sounding much less teasing than it did the day before. A quick glance at the clock confirms that it’s roughly around seven, and Winry is surprised to find that she actually lost track of time while working on new ideas. “How are things at home base? How are you?”

With a sigh, Winry puts down her pencil and leans back in the desk chair she’s sitting on.

“I’ve honestly had better days. Ed told me that Aerugo is stationing more soldiers at the border, and that doesn’t make me any less worried about your safety. Or the safety of the country, frankly,” she says, feeling too tired to be coy about what’s on her mind. She rubs her forehead with the hand that isn’t holding the receiver to her ear. “How about you? Any assassination attempts?”

She hears rustling and imagines Hawkeye laying back on the bed she’s been given at the local military barracks. 

“No, not yet. I’m crossing my fingers that it stays that way. We can ignore the occasional sneer, but a blatant attack like that would be more difficult to put down as anything other than a declaration of war.” A beat of silence follows, then Hawkeye sounds more apologetic. “I’m sorry, Winry. I didn’t think the situation would grow to be this bad. I don’t mean to make you worry. If I’d known it would be like this, I would have kept my distance.”

It’s so _ close _to that thing they haven’t discussed but have been dancing around for a few weeks now. So close to an admittance that there’s something here, something between them that goes deeper than friendship. 

But Winry really doesn’t want to have this conversation over the damn phone. 

“It’s not your fault,” she says reassuringly, drumming her fingers along the automail enhancements she’s been working on. “I took a job with the military. I shouldn’t be surprised that people I care about are being roped into this conflict. Not that that means you have to be any less careful.”

A gentle laugh floats across the connection.

“I’m trying my very best,” Riza promises, her voice warm with affection. 

They spend a few minutes discussing the different cuisine Hawkeye has been eating down at the border, which is closely related to Aerugo’s spicing customs and meat preparation. It’s a lull in conversation that makes Winry admit what she’s been thinking for the past few hours.

“I’ve decided to sign the contract,” she says, closing her eyes and waiting for Riza’s reaction. “I’m joining the military. For good.” There’s no change to Hawkeye’s breathing, and no delay to her response, and yet Winry thinks the other woman is surprised about her decision. 

“I’m sure you’ve thought about this a great deal, so I won’t ask you if you’re sure,” Riza says carefully, as though she’s choosing each and every word deliberately. "But I want you to know that this career path is difficult and painful. Especially in times like these." 

Despite herself, Winry smiles.

"You were the one who campaigned the hardest for me to stay with the military in the first place," she says, a bit of teasing creeping back into her voice. “And now you’re telling me I should reconsider? You’re not making a very good case for yourself, Lieutenant.”

Hawkeye’s chuckle sounds much less easy-going.

“That was before all of this. Before the threat of war was so imminent. And, if you allow me to be so forward, it was before I… cared for you.” Riza’s words are steady and determined, and Winry wishes she could see her eyes, see what emotions are swirling in those brown depths. “Would I be happy for you to stay close to me in Central City? Of course. But if it meant keeping you safe, I would encourage you to move back to Resembool so you wouldn’t have to become involved in this conflict.”

Fire crawls through Winry’s veins, engulfing her in the desire to throw caution to the wind and simply _ confess _how she has been feeling. Confess that she wishes nothing more than to be held in Riza’s arms. 

She wants to make a comment about Riza caring about Mustang and that he’s on the front lines, too, but the words seem futile in the face of the truth. Mustang and Riza’s connection is built on their mutual desire to reform their country. They are bound together by the atrocities in Ishval, and bound by their desire to keep one another honest. 

“Even if I stay in Resembool, I will not be safe if these peace talks fail,” Winry says, digging her nails into the new schematics. “And if I may be so honest with you, Lieutenant, I want to be here to help if anything were to happen to _ you. _ Because I care for you more than would be appropriate for me to say out loud when you are not here to hear my words.”

It takes a moment for her sentence to sink in, it seems, because Hawkeye clears her throat after a short delay. Her voice is thick with emotion the next time she speaks, and Winry presses her hand against her chest, against her racing heartbeat.

“Very well, then, it’s settled,” Riza acknowledges, her words remaining formal in spite of what they’re discussing. “Let me be the first to officially welcome you to our ranks, Corporal Rockbell. I hope your career will be long and prosperous.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Winry replies, her fingers itching to touch Riza in some way. She wishes she’d brought the uniform jacket into the study with her. “I am grateful for the opportunity to serve the people of our country. Please extend my appreciation to General Mustang as well, if you could.”

“Of course.” Hawkeye clears her throat again, seemingly rattled by Winry’s revelation that her feelings are reciprocated. “We are lucky to have you.” She sounds like she’s at a loss for what to say next, so Winry takes pity on her.

“Let’s hope I survive begging Granny to move to Central City with me.”

It breaks the ice, and for a moment Hawkeye’s laugh sounds genuinely amused. 

-

Winry hands her signed contract in on Friday morning to the person who has been assigned Mustang’s smaller projects while he’s away on peace negotiations. 

Captain Umbra is Ed’s direct superior, and she’s a nice woman, if a little stoic and serious. Somehow, that only makes her seem more likeable to Winry, who chalks this up to her weakness for cool older women who could kick her ass. She’s also from Ishval, and her red eyes parse over Winry with an approving sort of expression.

Still, it’s all very odd, knowing she’s now a fixed part of this military apparatus. If she was ordered to leave tomorrow and go to some far-off part of the country, she wouldn’t be able to say no.

It’s quite something else, realizing she’s found a strange sort of peace with this knowledge. She finds that she’s ready to throw herself into this machine full-tilt, because if there’s one thing Winry Rockbell is good at, it’s dismantling things and putting them back together again, but better. 

-

Captain Whitworth is grumbling to himself when Winry enters the shop that morning.

“Everything okay, Captain?” she asks, taking a seat at her desk and pulling her tote bag onto her lap so she can unearth her sketches from the previous evening. While she and Hawkeye had continued to talk about things _ other _than their romantic feelings or the imminent destruction of everything they’d worked so hard to achieve five years ago, she had redone some of the schematics her clenching hands had disrupted. 

Meanwhile, Whitworth’s left hand is wrapped around a sheet of metal and his right is holding up a hammer. He stops mid-swing and gives Winry an apologetic look, as though his bad mood should be offensive to her somehow. It draws attention to the fact that ever since Winry started this job, she hasn’t seen the Captain in a sour mood even so much as _ one _time. 

It’s always Winry who sulks, never the Captain.

“Corporal Rockbell, good morning.” He puts down his hammer and sits down on his own chair, moving his upper body in her direction. There are circles under his eyes and his mustache somehow looks less meticulously maintained than it usually does. “I will be fine, please don’t worry about me.”

Dully, Winry wonders why the people in her life keep saying this to her, as though she’s incapable of shouldering even the slightest burden. 

“I would ask that you not worry about _ me, _ Captain,” she says, trying to keep her words as encouraging as possible. “If you need someone to talk to about what’s going on, I’m here to listen.” She sets aside the schematics and pulls her full attention onto her colleague, someone she’s come to regard as a friend. “You’re not being deployed to the South, are you?”

Whitworth shakes his head.

“No, I’m still stationed here,” he reassures her, running a hand through his greying black hair before rubbing his fingers across his face in exasperation. “It’s Richard. I told him about the border situation and he… he’s not pleased with me.”

Furrowing her brows, Winry moves her chair a little closer.

“What happened?”

A sigh escapes Whitworth’s mouth, before a guilty expression crosses his features.

“You know I’m supposed to retire in less than a year,” he states, pulling at the left side of his mustache. “Well, with the situation at the border being what it is… I’m considering staying on for longer, just to see it through.” 

“But that could literally take _ years,” _ Winry rebuts him, understanding perfectly why his husband wasn’t happy with this revelation. “That’s why I’m here now, so you don’t have to do this anymore. So you can retire and go have a long vacation in Xing. Where it’s safe and you can live out your days.”

He worries more aggressively at his mustache, and Winry worries that he’s going to start tearing chunks out of it.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this by yourself,” he says, his eyes moving across her face. The worry she sees in them reminds her of the way her father had looked at her sometimes before his death. The way he’d acted when she’d gotten hurt. Like she was a wondrous little creature that he didn’t know how to keep safe. “You’re the best replacement I could have hoped for, but leaving you with this _ mess _feels wrong.” 

She shakes her head.

“There will always be something else that keeps you from leaving, if you let it,” she tries to convince him, though she’s pretty sure this is a losing battle. “If it’s not this war, it’ll be something else. You should take the opportunity to _ leave _while you still can.”

Looking down at his big hands, Whitworth lets out a sigh.

“You’re so young.”

A sad smile slips across her lips.

“Trust me, I’m ready for whatever is coming. Just in case you don’t remember, I was involved in the fight against the homunculi, too.” She brings her hand to her throat almost subconsciously, remembering the feeling of not being able to breathe right before losing her consciousness and her soul leaving her body. “I may not have been here on the Promised Day, but I was there for enough of it. I helped sow my best friend back together when I was ten after his leg and arm were amputated by the Truth.” 

With a grimace, he rubs his chin again.

“I’ll need to think about this.” He reaches for his hammer again and passes it back and forth between his hands. “Maybe I’ll force the brass to hire a few more apprentices so that you’re not shouldering the load all by yourself.”

She nods.

“That’s actually not a bad idea. I’m afraid if we go to war, I’ll have my hands fuller than I’ll be able to handle by myself.” Her eyes drift to the schematics again. “I’ve actually been thinking up some new prototypes I’d like you to look at, so maybe we can send a few less wounded or dead soldiers back to Aerugo.”

His mood perks up immediately, and Winry feels relieved. 

“Well, well, show them to me,” he says, clapping his hands together, pressing his chin on top of the hammer in happy anticipation. 

-

That Friday night, Hawkeye doesn’t call.

-

Winry barely sleeps. 

She doesn’t have Riza’s number, and no way to figure out if this is something to worry about or a simple miscalculation on Hawkeye’s part. The day prior, she’d promised Winry she’d call again at seven, but when that time comes and goes with no word from her, alarm bells start going off. 

When Riza hasn’t gotten in touch by one in the morning, Winry gives up and heads to the couch to sleep. Ultimately, exhaustion is the thing that knocks her out, though her sleep is fitful and filled with unpleasant dreams. 

At seven forty-five, she is woken by two dogs clambering on her belly and licking her face.

At eight-fifteen, she’s back from walking them and realizes that she has nothing else to _ do, _ really, for the next forty-eight hours. 

Maybe she could try to call Central Command to get some information on the situation at the Southern border, but she’s only a corporal, and chances are good that no one will speak to her about something of such a sensitive nature. 

She makes an effort with breakfast, although the omelette she eats tastes less delicious than it usually does, and she spends most of her time in the kitchen staring at the picture of Riza at Fort Briggs. In the end, she goes up to the fridge, removes the magnet, and tucks the picture into the breast pocket of Riza’s uniform. It feels a little pathetic, maybe, but Winry is beyond caring at this point. 

After she’s taken a shower, the television sits idly by as she walks back and forth in the living room.

In the end, she does something she swore to herself she wouldn’t do when this whole debacle started. 

She walks into Hawkeye’s bedroom.

With a resigned sigh, she grabs a random book off the shelf in the corner and gets under the blanket, pushing her back against the headboard and pulling one of Riza’s two pillows into her chest. With her nose buried in the pillow, she cracks open the spine and starts reading.

-

“Oh, sweethearts, I’ve missed you, too. I haven’t even been gone that long.”

She’s warm and snuggly. 

“Where’s Winry, hm? Where did she go?”

Everything is soft and smells so good and Winry doesn’t even mind that there’s a book on her chest or that she’s partly sitting up. Keeping her eyes shut, she sinks a little bit deeper into the pillows and blankets and rubs her nose along the collar of the uniform jacket she’s wearing.

Footsteps come closer, before the sound of a door being pushed slightly more ajar reaches Winry’s ears.

“Haya? Raku?” she asks, patting her hand on the blanket and offering the space next to her to her furry friends. 

Instead, the door is shut with a soft click.

“Winry?” a voice asks from not too far away, causing her eyelids to fly open. 

Sitting upright, Winry stares at the person in the doorway, disbelief collecting in her chest.

“Riza?”

The all too familiar brown eyes sparkle as Hawkeye smiles at her, and Winry is out of the bed and on her feet before she can quite take note of the fact that the book she’d been reading flops to the floor ungracefully. Or that she’s wearing Hawkeye’s jacket, and that the Fort Briggs picture is clearly sticking out from the breast pocket.

None of that matters.

Not a second later, Winry’s arms are wrapped around the taller woman, and her face is buried in the lieutenant’s neck, breathing in her scent. There’s something foreign to it now, something that burns a little in Winry’s nostrils. 

“What are you doing here?” Winry asks breathlessly as she holds Riza tighter, digging her nails into her shoulder blades, unheeding of the burn scars for the first time since becoming aware of their existence. “It’s only been three days.”

“Ah, well,” Riza says, wincing a little as she pulls away from Winry and gestures at her side. “I’m afraid we were ordered to return home after… an incident.” 

“What incident?” With shaking fingers, Winry grabs Hawkeye’s jacket with both hands and starts unbuttoning it. “Are you badly injured? Why didn’t you just _ call _me!”

Hawkeye tries to catch Winry’s wrists to steady her, but Winry shrugs her off so she can finish her unbuttoning attack. When she’s finished, she pulls up the bottom of Riza’s turtleneck, unsurprised and yet furious to see a bandage on the right side of her stomach, just below her ribs. 

“Apologies,” Riza says, finally taking hold of Winry’s biceps. “Everything happened very quickly. I barely had time to gather my things before we were sent back to the trains. I came straight home from the station.” She looks tired and a little ashen. “I would have tried to get a memo to you, but the delivery would have likely taken just as long as--”

The kiss surprises even Winry herself.

One second, she’s staring at Hawkeye’s lips as they move to justify her actions, the next she’s moving. Her hands cup Riza’s cheeks and her bare feet lean up just slightly so she can press their mouths together, cutting the other woman off mid-sentence.

Hawkeye’s lips are hot to the touch, and they freeze for just a second as Winry pushes herself closer, before Riza seems to melt into the kiss. Her hands move from Winry’s arms to her back, tugging her closer as their mouths slide against one another. 

Eyes squeezed shut, Winry reaches around the back of Hawkeye’s hair so she can remove the clasp that’s holding it together. 

The kiss is overwhelming, to say the least. After imagining it so many different ways, Winry finds that the truth of the matter makes all of her dreams and fantasies pale in comparison. There’s a certain way Hawkeye moves her mouth. An almost lazy way she tilts her head to capture Winry’s bottom lip in between her own. 

When they pull apart, Winry is panting, and Hawkeye’s hands have found their way underneath the uniform jacket, scorching a trail all along her back. 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Winry says, mouthing ineffectually at Riza’s jawline. “Don’t ever say you’re going to call and not follow through with it.” Hawkeye’s lips open and close as though to speak, but she seems too stunned to form any words, so Winry takes pity on her and kisses her again. When she pulls back this time, Hawkeye’s lips follow her instinctively, but Winry keeps her at bay. “I was worried sick.”

Clearing her throat, Riza lifts her hand to Winry’s cheek. 

“I really am sorry,” she says, her voice thick with emotion, her pupils wider and blacker than Winry has ever seen them. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to consider anybody else’s feelings other than my own.” Her thumb glides over Winry’s skin, along her bottom lip. “All I could think about was getting home to you as quickly as possible.”

Dropping her hands down to the lapels of Hawkeye’s uniform, Winry tugs the lieutenant over to the bed and pushes her down onto it. 

“Well, things are different now, Lieutenant,” she says, before straddling Riza’s lap. “Now, you better tell me exactly what happened at the border, or I’m going to be very, _ very _upset with you.” She thinks under any other circumstances she might be shy about the way she’s acting, but she’s just been through a long evening and night of worrying about the safety of the woman she’s grown to care about a great deal, so she cuts herself some slack.

Hawkeye certainly doesn’t seem to mind. 

She simply places her hands on Winry’s waist and looks up her with half-lidded brown eyes, her cheeks flushing a little with blood, making her look less tired. One of her hands slides down and lands on the outside of Winry’s bare thigh, which is perhaps a little too distracting a place for the discussion Winry wants to have.

“There was an ambush,” Hawkeye admits as Winry cards her fingers through the other woman’s long, blonde hair. “Mustang, Albatross, Second Lieutenant Breda and myself were outside of the barracks, discussing the last meeting we’d just had.”

Taking full advantage of their newfound closeness, Winry strokes her fingers along a fine scar that runs along the lieutenant’s hairline on her forehead. 

“Did they shoot you?” 

“I barely got grazed,” Hawkeye defends herself, her fingers drawing circles on Winry’s thigh. “Albatross and Breda moved Mustang behind cover while I returned fire. No one died. Everyone’s just a little shaken up.”

Shaking her head, Winry kisses the back of Hawkeye’s nose.

“And there’s another scar to add to your collection,” she whispers, looking down at where the turtleneck is hiding the healed cut that almost ended Hawkeye’s life five years ago. 

“Here I thought women liked scars,” Riza says, pulling Winry just a little bit closer with the hand on her waist. The strength of her is enticing, and Winry wonders if Hawkeye can tell that their kisses have made her more excited than appropriate for this discussion. Her sleep shorts certainly don’t do much to conceal it.

“We do,” Winry says, drawing her fingers along Riza’s lips again. “But we also like it when our partners aren’t sliced to ribbons every couple of weeks.” It doesn’t feel risky to refer to Hawkeye as her _ partner, _ though perhaps she wonders if it should. After all, Riza has admitted that she hasn’t dated anyone in a long while, and perhaps that has been on purpose.

But the gentle laugh she receives soothes Winry’s worries.

“I’m afraid that’s what you get when you decide to pursue a soldier, Miss Rockbell.” 

Rolling her eyes, Winry steals another kiss so she doesn’t have to see that smirk anymore, though what was supposed to be a quick interlude turns into something more than she bargained for. She’s not quite sure how, but she finds herself on her back, with Hawkeye kneeling over her.

A small sigh of pleasure slips free from her lips when Riza slides her hand along Winry’s thigh again. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Winry whispers in between kisses, her own arms wrapped around Hawkeye’s shoulders. They’re in a position that’s far from the soft and tentative way they’ve spoken about their relationship so far, and she’s starting to wonder if perhaps the lieutenant is a little more tired than she’s letting on. 

“Mhh,” Riza murmurs against Winry’s jaw, right before she bites at it playfully. “And what would that be?”

“You’re trying to distract me from the ambush and the possible political implications of an attack on Amestrian soil.” Winry’s words come out fast, because damn it but Hawkeye’s distractions are working on her like a charm. 

A chuckle is followed by another kiss, right before Hawkeye sits up and shuffles off of her. It’s not a rejection, Winry finds, it’s an acknowledgement. 

“It’s not good,” Riza says as she starts unlacing her black boots. “The fact that we’re back here so soon isn’t a good sign. There’s supposedly some more peace negotiations that Aerugo wants, but they no longer want them with Mustang.” She chucks the boots in a corner, before shrugging off her jacket and folding it. “They’re playing a dangerous game.”

Sitting up as well, Winry pulls her knees to her chest and watches as Hawkeye gets to her feet and strips off her dark-brown turtleneck to reveal her back. There are a few smaller bandages on it, and Winry winces as she thinks about how much she’s been clutching at it during the last few minutes.

“So are you.” Winry gets to her feet and walks over to Riza, trailing her fingers from bandage to bandage. “You should have told me you were hurt here. I wouldn’t have been so rough.” She presses a kiss against Riza’s bare shoulder. 

“I forgot,” Hawkeye says, sounding embarrassingly sincere. Her eyes are trained on the open closet, her cheeks dusted with pink. “To be honest, I forgot most things when I came in here and saw you were wearing my uniform.” 

Butterflies erupt in Winry’s stomach all over again at the admission, and she doesn’t hesitate as she wraps her arms around Riza’s midsection from behind. 

“It smells like you,” she whispers directly into Hawkeye’s ear, satisfaction flooding her senses when she feels Hawkeye shiver. "I couldn't have the real thing, so I made do."

Her fingers dance across the outline of Riza's abdominal muscles, and she has half a mind to place a gentle bite on the lieutenant's shoulder, when a growl reaches her ears.

Looking down, she hears the growl again, coming from Hawkeye's stomach. 

"I didn't have breakfast or much of a dinner." A heavy blush has taken root on Riza's cheeks, though whether it is from embarrassment or desire is anyone's guess. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to ruin the moment."

Laying her forehead against Riza’s shoulder, she lets out a laugh. 

“Nothing’s ruined. Just put on something comfortable and come into the kitchen. Pancakes sound good to you?” Her hands move to a safer place on Hawkeye’s waist, before she finally lets her go to take a step back. For the moment, she’ll prioritize feeding Riza over her own horny feelings. “Tea?”

For a second, Riza follows her to lay the softest of kisses against her lips, making Winry feel weak in the knees all over again. 

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Winry.” 

With a dopey smile, she leaves the room, and only half-stumbles across Black Hayate and White Rakurai, who immediately clamber into Hawkeye’s bedroom as soon as the door is open. Her lips still tingle.

-

Winry is half into finishing up the first pancake, when Hawkeye walks into the open kitchen and living room. The sweatpants she’s donned are black, and while she’s wearing a blue tank top, Winry can tell that she’s forgone wearing a bra. 

“Smells great already,” Riza says as she passes Winry, letting her hand trail along Winry’s waist. She looks into the refrigerator without a clear indication of what she’s looking for. A moment later, she closes it again, before her eyes trail along Winry’s form. “It suits you.” She takes a step closer, fingers going to the stars on Winry’s shoulder. “The rank of lieutenant.”

“Sounds good, too,” Winry replies, flipping a pancake before holding out her hand for Hawkeye to take. “Lieutenant Rockbell. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Following along, Riza lets herself be pulled closer.

“Sure does,” she says, voice raspy. A tentative smile appears on her lips as she wraps her arms around Winry’s waist from behind and places her forehead against her shoulder. “If I may be so forward, Winry.” She leaves a pause, then presses her nose against Winry’s neck. “You feel wonderful to hold.”

Blushing softly, Winry transfers the pancake onto a plate before adding more batter to the pan. 

“Please, Riza, be as forward as you want.” She drops a hand to Riza’s forearm and strokes it softly. Thinking back to the prior week, she bites her lower lip. “You know, this is actually not the first time you’ve held me like this, though it’s the first time I’ve truly felt like I could enjoy it.”

Arms tensing just a little - which makes Winry uncomfortably aware of just how well-developed Riza’s biceps are - Hawkeye lifts her head from Winry’s shoulder. 

“What? Surely, I would remember, if I…” she trails off, then she slaps a hand against her face. “You told me I didn’t do anything embarrassing while I was drunk.” When Winry just laughs, Hawkeye shakes her a little. “It’s not funny, Miss Rockbell!”

“It’s a little funny,” Winry teases her, before tossing the second pancake onto the plate. Turning her head to the side, she presses a kiss against Hawkeye’s cheek. “You’re a very sweet drunk.” Another kiss follows, this time against Riza’s jawline. “But just in case you’re wondering, I much prefer you like this.”

Riza smiles softly.

“That’s a relief.” She nuzzles back against Winry’s neck. 

Finishing the pancakes takes just a little longer than usual.

-

The television is set to some inoffensive nature documentary about Xing, and Riza is hunched over the coffee table with the pancakes in front of her. The maple syrup is right next to her, and Winry, who is still quite full from her omelette this morning, has a cup of tea held in between her hands. 

Her eyes are trained more on Hawkeye than they are on the television, and she doesn’t quite believe that she’s really back. With her back pressed against the right armrest, she occasionally wriggles her toes against Hawkeye’s thigh. It’s comforting, though maybe a little annoying for the other woman.

“Do you think they’ll send you back again?” Winry asks after a good chunk of the pancakes have been consumed and Riza has slowed down a little. “I mean, you said that an attempt on Mustang’s life would be seen as an act of war, right?”

She takes a sip from the sweet drink and watches Riza as she lifts up her hand to scratch at the scar on her neck. She looks beautiful like this, with her mouth stuffed full of food, her hair falling freely around her face and her clothing comfortable and casual. 

After swallowing down what’s in her mouth and taking a sip of her own tea, Riza leans back against the couch and places her hand on Winry’s calf, stroking softly back and forth. It’s unfair, how quickly her touch can render Winry’s brain completely useless.

“Well, under normal circumstances, it probably would be,” Hawkeye says, turning her head towards her. “But the thing is that we don’t _ want _ a war. We’re trying to do whatever we can to prevent Aerugo from outright declaring it, or from somehow tricking _ us _into declaring it.” She lets out a sigh. “But sure, if Aerugo gets tired of waiting for us to make a move, or simply decides the charade isn’t worth the effort anymore, we might be called back there.”

Setting aside her tea, Winry takes Riza’s hand off her calf so she can cradle it in between her own. Softly, she presses a kiss against the knuckles. 

“I hope it doesn’t come to that.” She drops the lieutenant’s hand back down to her leg, though this time it stays on her knee. “It’s so good to have you back again, especially now that we’re doing… whatever this is.”

A gentle smile takes root on Hawkeye’s lips.

“What _ are _we doing, anyway?” she asks, scooting just a little closer so Winry is forced to sit up properly. 

Feeling suddenly shy, Winry grabs Hawkeye’s hand again.

“Well, what do you think we’re doing?” Winry’s eyes trail from the other woman’s eyes down to her smiling mouth. 

Hawkeye laughs.

“I asked you first,” she says teasingly, leaning forward just slightly. 

Looking down at their clasped hands, Winry shrugs a little.

“I know what I want it to be,” she says softly, before a hand touches her cheek. 

Riza’s brown eyes are warm with affection. 

“Winry,” she says, sliding her thumb back and forth along Winry’s jawline. “Please.” It’s reminiscent of when Hawkeye asked her to stay right before she officially joined the military for her first trial month. 

_ Please. Ask. _

“I want to be with you,” Winry finally admits, feeling like a boulder-sized heartache has been lifted off her shoulders as she says it. She lets out a breath of relief. “It feels so good to just finally say it.” Putting both hands on Riza’s shoulders, she presses their lips together for just a moment. Then, the shyness settles in again. “I hope that’s what you want, too, otherwise this will be really awkward. Mostly for me.”

Lips claim hers, causing Winry to let out a surprised gasp as she’s pushed into the armrest with Hawkeye cupping both of her cheeks and keeping her in place. The fervor of her kisses is not unwelcome, and Winry curls both arms around the other woman’s back, holding her tightly. 

For several minutes, their mouths move back and forth, and Winry’s hands find themselves tangled in Hawkeye’s hair, tugging her back each time she shows even a hint of wanting to pull away. 

“Of course I want to be with you,” Riza murmurs in between kisses, right before she opens her mouth to lick across Winry’s bottom lip. Without hesitation, Winry accepts her inside, sighing softly when Riza’s tongue touches hers. 

When they finally pull apart, Hawkeye keeps her eyes closed. 

“I just needed to make sure you didn’t feel obligated, because of what I said.” Her pupils are dilated when her eyelids finally open, and there’s a fire in them that Winry feels both scorched and comforted by. “I’m still a Lieutenant and you’re a Corporal, not to mention ten years my junior.” Her fingers slide into Winry’s hair. “I had to know you weren’t simply following my emotions to ensure I was kept happy.”

Biting her bottom lip, Winry slides her foot along Hawkeye’s calf.

“I don’t mean to offend you, Lieutenant,” she says, her fingers sliding along the scar on Riza’s neck, softly stroking it. “But I couldn’t care less about your rank. You could be a general or a simple officer, and I’d want to kiss you just the same.” 

Riza ducks her head a little at the words, and the laugh that spills from her lips is so happy and carefree that Winry can’t help but pull her into another kiss. Even though the smile makes it quite difficult.

“Thank you for looking out for me,” Winry whispers, gently knocking her forehead against Hawkeye’s.

“Of course, Miss Rockbell,” Riza replies, her nose gliding along Winry’s.

All in all, Winry thinks her Saturday morning could have been worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can tell im gay from the way i keep mentioning hawkeye's muscles IM SORRY
> 
> if you liked it, i would appreciate a comment ♥
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> all mistakes are my own.
> 
> if you want to chat, feel free to find me @goshdarnitjay on tumblr xoxo


	9. she'll make do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PEEPS, if you haven't seen birds of prey yet and are kinda humming and hahing about it, here's is your SIGN - go watch it RIGHT NOW !!
> 
> *whispers* there is gay fanfiction for it already
> 
> anyway, this chapter is the bomb

They spend a bit more time on the couch.

The television sits forgotten as they kiss and caress one another. It's a blissful few minutes, only interrupted when Winry hears sniffing noises from the coffee table.

"No, no, no," she says, grabbing Hawkeye by the shoulders and pushing her away just far enough to glare at Black Hayate, whose nose has gotten uncomfortably close to the coffee table and the leftover pancakes thereupon. "Those are not for you." 

To his credit, he doesn't try to sneak another bite, but his attempt at food subterfuge has also pulled Riza out of her kiss-induced haze.

"I guess I should clean that up," she says, reaching around Black Hayate and picking up the plate with the leftover pancakes. "I don't want any of these to go to waste." With a smile at Winry, who tries to keep her hormones in check, Hawkeye walks into the open kitchen area. 

While she pulls out a plastic box to transfer the pancakes into, Winry slides further down on the sofa and lets out a sigh of sexual frustration. 

All of the kissing has been nice - more than nice, really - but it's also been _ tame. _

It makes sense, of course. Hawkeye is hurt, for one. And what's more, the two of them only just discussed their feelings for one another. Still, none of those rational thoughts manage to make a difference when she can feel the evidence of her arousal in her panties.

"You doing okay?" Hawkeye asks as she comes back to pick up their empty mugs. She seems unaffected _ now, _ but Winry hasn’t hallucinated the way Hawkeye’s hands had been holding her, or the way her mouth dragged along her throat. 

“No,” Winry says, finally laying flat on the couch and folding her hands on her stomach. “How about you? Are you tired? Do your injuries hurt?” She looks up at Hawkeye’s sweet expression and feels a little bad for only thinking about how to get the other woman out of her clothes. “Did they give you anything for the pain?”

Riza doesn’t ask her what’s wrong, so Winry suspects she has an inkling. That doesn’t make her feel any less eager to touch _ more. _

“I’m not in any grave pain,” Hawkeye says perhaps a tad too diplomatically as she carries the mugs over to the sink and places them inside. “I didn’t want to feel woozy on the train just in case it was attacked, so I didn’t take anything for it. But I’ve experienced much worse.”

Rubbing her face with her hands, Winry wonders if all soldiers are like this, or if it’s just the people she cares about who act like they have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever. With a sigh, she sits up and raises her left eyebrow at Hawkeye.

“You said you guys had to hurry to the train after the ambush,” she says, leaning against the back of the couch and giving the lieutenant a calculating look. “Did you have a doctor look at your stomach, or did you just slap a bandage on it and call it a day?”

Tapping her fingers on the countertop of her open kitchen, Hawkeye gives Winry a serene smile.

“We didn’t have a lot of time.”

Pressing one hand against her forehead, Winry points to the hallway with the other one.

“Bathroom. Now,” she says, before getting to her feet. As she follows Hawkeye, she starts unbuttoning the uniform jacket she’s been wearing for a few days. Now that she has the other woman back, she doesn’t have to rely on it anymore. And besides, she doesn’t want to get any blood on it. “Did you at least have an alchemist try to fix it up a _ little _bit?”

As she opens the door to the bathroom, Hawkeye looks back over her shoulder at Winry.

“Do you want the honest answer, or the one that will soothe your wrath the most?” she asks teasingly, although her eyes are soft with appreciation for Winry’s concern. 

“Just sit on the edge of the bathtub and lift up your top, please.” So as to avoid the dogs shuffling in and getting their hair all over an open gunshot wound, Winry closes the door behind herself. She’s just about managed to wrangle the big first aid kit out from its spot beneath the sink when she sees Hawkeye lift her top just high enough to expose the bandage. It’s stained red, which doesn’t surprise Winry one iota after what she’s heard. 

“Do you need me to do anything?” Hawkeye asks as Winry sits down on the lid of the closed toilet, slips on some disposable gloves, and starts peeling off the bandage. The uniform jacket has been deposited safely in the hamper, far away from any bodily fluids, leaving Winry in her black crop top and sleep shorts. The photo of Riza at Fort Briggs sits neatly on the bathroom counter.

“Hold still and try not to faint.”

Hawkeye chuckles.

“Trust me, I’ve survived worse blood loss,” she says, barely wincing when Winry exposes the gunshot wound, which is red and looks all kinds of angry. At least Riza seems to have had the good sense to disinfect it. That must have been the cause of the change in her smell.

“That does not make this situation any better.” Winry tries not to think about the wound that would have caused a scar as large and deadly as the one on Hawkeye’s neck. She leans in just slightly and tries to gauge the severity of what’s in front of her. 

It _ is _a graze, she accepts with some consternation.

“I’ll have to clean it again,” Winry says as she grabs a cotton swab. “And I think it’d be a good idea if I put three stitches on it. Just to be safe.” She reaches up almost subconsciously to adjust a pair of magnifying glasses that isn’t there. 

“I’m lucky I have an automail surgeon at home, huh?” Riza says, looking far too pleased and dopey for someone whose insides are partially exposed. 

Winry glares, though not too harshly.

“The train ride did this thing _ no _ favors,” she gripes, before starting to clean the wound as gently as possible. Again, Hawkeye barely reacts, even though Winry is very sure this can’t be comfortable for her at all. “And I’m _ not _a doctor. You should have this looked at by a professional on Monday.”

“I trust you,” the lieutenant says without hesitation, making Winry shake her head in exasperation.

“This has nothing to do with trust,” she insists, pleased when the cleaning reveals that they will probably get away with just two stitches. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday.” Pulling out the suture kit that Hawkeye has placed conveniently in the first aid kit (she doesn’t want to consider Riza stitching up _ herself), _ Winry tugs out the needle and thread she’ll need. “My needlework isn’t the best. Granny always said I did better with the welding torch.”

A strange expression flits across Hawkeye’s face, almost like she’s not quite sure whether to open her mouth and speak or not. Then, finally, she does. “We could always try to weld it shut, but, you know…” She gestures to her back with her chin. “I think I have enough burn scars as it is.” 

It doesn’t garner a laugh, but it sure succeeds in Hawkeye getting a gentle kiss laid on her cheek. 

“You’re terrible,” Winry says softly, before she focuses on the gunshot wound again. “I don’t have any local anesthetic, but with the way you’re talking, I’m sure you won’t mind a few tiny pinpricks.” 

Before Hawkeye can say anything, Winry has started on the first stitch. 

-

All in all, the whole thing from start to finish takes about ten minutes, including the time Winry takes to clean and prepare the wound. As expected, the lieutenant takes the stitches in stride, and she doesn’t even complain when Winry tells her they’ll be redressing the wound together on a set schedule. 

Hawkeye’s back takes less time and effort, mainly because the scratches on it are nothing to write home about, although Winry takes care to inspect the various scars, as the tissue there is much more sensitive to new abuse. Once she’s satisfied that Hawkeye won’t bleed to death if they get a little too much into their kissing, she stuffs the first aid kit back into its place and washes her hands in the sink. 

“This is the one and only time I’m stitching you up, Lieutenant,” Winry says, her words more akin to a threat than anything else. “From now on, you’ll have a medical professional take care of you.” She dries her hands and turns to Riza with a serious look on her face. “Because it’s not just you anymore.”

It’s a bit much maybe, the speech, but Riza doesn’t seem to mind.

Instead of retorting something sarcastic, she gets to her feet and cups Winry’s cheeks, pulling her into a kiss.

“Thank you,” she says when she pulls away. “Winry.”

Knees weak, Winry leans back up for more, only for Hawkeye to let her go. As soon as she sees Winry’s pout, Riza laughs.

“Don’t give me that look,” she says, before taking Winry’s hand. She pulls her close and lays her lips against Winry’s ear. “I’d much rather be kissing you in my bedroom than in here.” Curling her fingers around Hawkeye’s back, Winry bares her neck for Riza’s lips and teeth, her eyes closing involuntarily as she’s kissed there. “Is this agreeable to you, Miss Rockbell?”

Winry gasps softly as Hawkeye nips at the skin beneath her ear. 

“Very much so, Lieutenant,” she returns breathlessly. 

-

Winry wouldn’t have minded simply _ stumbling _into the bedroom as they make out, but Hawkeye is more pragmatic and keeps her lips and hands mostly to herself on the short trip from the bathroom to the bed. And this also has the benefit of ensuring that there are no dogs sneakily coming in after them.

As soon as they’re in the clear, Winry turns around and places her hands on Hawkeye’s abdomen, careful not to disturb her fresh stitches. Slowly, deliberately, she pushes until Riza’s back hits the door, before leaning up on her toes so she can bring their lips together. 

It starts off gentle, with Hawkeye’s hands settled comfortably on Winry’s waist, while Winry strokes her fingers along Riza’s neck. Their mouths move languidly together, unhurried, and Winry loses herself in the sensation of Hawkeye’s tender caresses. 

There’s nothing better than this.

That is, until Riza’s right hand slides up her back and dips under the back of her black crop top, fingertips just barely grazing Winry’s shoulder blade. It brings them closer, and although Winry tries not to press their stomachs together, she feels Hawkeye’s breasts against her own. 

After four weeks of almost constant pining, it’s humbling to think that Riza would actually return her feelings, and Winry basks in every second she gets to spend like this with a woman she cares about more than she’s ready to admit. Still, her worried mind can’t quite stop badgering her that Hawkeye should be _ resting _after the day and night she had. 

Her desires war with one another.

Keep kissing Riza or take care of her wounds?

Ultimately, Winry’s worry wins out.

“I think you should lay down,” she manages to murmur as Hawkeye’s lips leave her mouth to kiss a trail along her jaw and towards her neck. “Maybe making out against a door isn’t the best idea in your condition, Lieutenant.”

Leaning back against it, Hawkeye lets go of Winry and closes her eyes, raking a hand through her hair and swallowing thickly. Her lips look flush with blood from their kissing and her breathing isn’t quite right. 

There’s an odd sense of pride in Winry’s chest as she sits down on the bed and looks up at Hawkeye, who stays where she is, trying to catch her breath. At least that’s the way it seems. When she finally looks up, she eyes Winry from top to bottom. There’s something cautious about her body language, and Winry wonders if the other woman is worried about their ranks again. 

Or if maybe she misinterpreted Winry’s comment as an attempt to _ stop _what they’re doing entirely.

“Riza,” Winry says as she slowly opens her thighs, hoping that she looks as inviting as she feels. When Hawkeye’s gaze falls down to the apex of her thighs, Winry stretches out her hand. “This is not an order, but I would like it very much if you came over here.”

In a few strides, Hawkeye is in front of her.

Sliding back on the bed, Winry keeps their eyes connected, hoping to convey through body language alone that she’s ready for whatever comes next. Whether that be war, tough conversations about their battle scars, or fretting over what White Rakurai has in her mouth at any given time. Winry wants to be here for all of it. 

“Please, Riza,” she says, surprised at how secure and comfortable she feels now that they’ve had an honest conversation about their feelings. She doesn’t mind asking for what she wants, because she knows Riza wants it, too. “What I meant to say was that I think you should lay down. On top of me.”

It’s a bit blunt and unpolished, perhaps, but Winry doesn’t care. 

She’s never been a wordsmith and she’s never had to be. 

Now, it seems, is no exception, as Hawkeye immediately follows her demand and is on top of Winry in the blink of an eye. Instead of going in for another kiss, Hawkeye keeps going just where she left off, by kissing and sucking on Winry’s pulse point while her hands glide up and under the back of Winry’s crop top. 

Leaning back her head, Winry closes her eyes and welcomes the onslaught of sensations. Her own hands find refuge on Hawkeye’s back, sliding along the tattoo she knows is there, deftly avoiding the scratches and scrapes hidden underneath bandages. Her worry temporarily soothed now that Hawkeye isn’t on her feet anymore, Winry allows her mind to drift to the pleasure she knows is just around the corner.

Gradually, Riza’s right hand moves onto Winry’s ribs, and the pace is agonizing. In the haze of arousal, her brain has laser focused on the idea of the lieutenant’s hands on her breasts, and it’s one Winry approves of. Grabbing Hawkeye’s wrist, Winry moves the fingers up and under her top, aided by the fact that she isn’t wearing a bra. 

“Winry,” Hawkeye murmurs against her neck, before lifting her head and establishing eye contact. 

“Please touch me,” Winry says without being prompted, holding on a little tighter when Riza’s thumb moves across her nipple. Closing her eyes, Winry curls her calf around Riza’s legs and opens her mouth. “Please, Riza, do whatever you want to me. I’ve missed you so much.”

Her last word is almost swallowed by Hawkeye’s kiss, and Winry loses herself all over again. Everything feels amazing, especially the way Riza’s fingers move along her nipple, though the top is somewhat restricting her movements. 

Riza seems to come to the same conclusion, because she breaks their kiss so she can ask Winry if she can take it off. As soon as Winry nods, Riza grabs the bottom of the black crop top and pulls it up and over Winry’s arms and head. 

They both laugh when Winry’s hair gets tangled momentarily, before the top is discarded on the floor and Winry sinks back onto the bed, now wearing nothing except for her blue sleep shorts. Under different circumstances, she might feel self-conscious about being so naked in front of another person, but Riza’s expression is one of such raw emotion that Winry can’t do anything but succumb to how right it feels. 

“How would you feel if I took off my top, too?” Hawkeye murmurs against Winry’s sternum, leaving small butterfly kisses on the swell of Winry’s breasts. “Would that be amenable to you, Miss Rockbell?”

“Do you even have to ask?” Winry says with an incredulous laugh, dropping her hands to her side so Hawkeye can sit up and slip off her top. The bandage just below her ribs looks good with no fresh blood in sight, and Winry is glad of this, because her eyes are drawn quickly to Hawkeye’s breasts. They’re just a little smaller than her own, but they look absolutely perfect to her. “Take off whatever you want, Lieutenant.”

With a smirk, Riza reaches for the clasp on her bedside table, the same one Winry had pulled from the other woman’s hair and deposited there earlier. She makes quick work of her hair now, ensuring it won’t fall in her face, before leaning back down. 

Without preamble, she takes Winry’s left nipple into her mouth and sucks just slightly, her tongue moving back and forth against it. With a gentle moan, Winry rocks against Hawkeye’s abdomen, before stilling her hips in fear of accidentally damaging the stitching. It would not do well to undo her hard work by mindlessly rutting against it. 

Last night when she had been worried sick for her lieutenant, she never would have imagined that she’d end up in this position now, pinned beneath Riza with her breast in the other woman’s mouth. It’s a fair trade-off, she thinks. 

“Did you mean it?” Hawkeye asks suddenly after letting Winry’s beast slip from her lips. She licks and sucks on the space inbetween Winry’s breast for a second, one of her hands sliding up to play with Winry’s other nipple, before seemingly realizing that Winry has no idea what exactly she’s referring to. “Did you mean it? That I should do whatever I want?” She bites at the underside of Winry’s left breast. “Because there’s one thing I’ve been thinking about a lot, Miss Rockbell.”

Her kisses move lower, along Winry’s stomach, and she takes care to caress each square inch of skin she can see. 

“One very specific thing.” 

Her eyes are black pools of arousal, and Winry’s thighs immediately open wider at the hungry expression on her face. The movement reminds her of just how wet she is as her panties slide against her hard clit, and she nods shakily. There have been one or two dreams she’s had that have been much like this. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this. I’m ashamed to admit it has occupied quite a few of my late night hours,” Riza says as she draws her right pointer finger along the elastic band of Winry’s sleep shorts. “May I?”

“If you did not, I’m sure I would combust,” Winry admits, lifting her hips so Hawkeye can pull the shorts and panties off. She takes her time, undressing Winry like she’s a precious gift she doesn’t deserve. The clothes soon join their tops on the floor, leaving Winry with nothing hiding the evidence of her arousal. She must be glistening from the noon sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. 

“You’re quite sure?” Hawkeye asks as she lays down on her stomach in between Winry’s legs, sliding her hands along her inner thighs, causing goosebumps to spring up in their wake. “This is merely a request.”

Clasping Hawkeye’s left wrist, Winry gives her what must be a wanton look.

“Lieutenant,” she says, purposefully moving Hawkeye’s hand closer to her wetness. “I insist.”

“Well, Miss Rockbell,” Riza says, spreading Winry’s lips, “if you insist, who am I to refuse?”

-

The first touch of Riza’s tongue against her sends a jolt of electricity through Winry.

But it’s the sight of her in between Winry’s legs, the sound of her moan as she tastes Winry, and the visual of her tattoo on her back moving as she slides in even closer that really makes the whole experience overwhelming. Especially when Hawkeye spreads her further and envelops her clit in between her lips, her tongue giving it the same treatment she’d previously given Winry’s nipple.

Digging her nails into the bedspread, Winry arches her back, her foot trying to find purchase on Riza’s back.

“Lieutenant,” she gasps out as Hawkeye sucks insistently on her. The sound of her title only seems to spur Riza on, her right hand joining in the mix and circling along Winry’s entrance. There’s no hesitation to the movement, only deliberate patience. “Lieutenant, please.”

A satisfied hum reaches Winry’s ears, though she barely registers it as she’s too occupied with the feeling of Hawkeye’s finger slowly sliding into her. For very nearly a full month, Winry has sneaked glances at those hands, at the dexterity with which they moved. And now, the thought of being filled up to the brim with them pales in comparison to the real thing. 

“I appreciate how wet you are, Miss Rockbell,” Hawkeye says as she pulls away from Winry’s clit, just far enough so she can just flick it with her tongue. “It’s very encouraging.” A second finger joins the first, and Winry’s hands lift up so she can grip the headboard. 

“Only for you, Lieutenant,” Winry pants, her abdominal muscles flexing with each teasing flick of Hawkeye’s tongue. Somewhere in the distance, she can feel her orgasm starting to build, can feel the tingling in her feet already, but she’s far too concerned with the sensation of Hawkeye’s fingers curling inside her and sliding back and forth against her front wall, rubbing against her most sensitive areas and teasing shockwaves of pleasure out of her. 

“You honor me,” Hawkeye says, sounding so sincere Winry gasps out a quiet little laugh of relief, right before Riza’s mouth envelops her again, sucking and licking in earnest while her fingers move back and forth, in and out with a rhythm known only to her. 

While her right hand is busy fucking Winry into oblivion, Hawkeye’s left hand moves onto Winry’s stomach, holding her in place and keeping her from moving. Her grip is strong, her fingers scorching to the touch, and Winry drops her own hand down so she can clasp Riza’s and hold on tight. 

A glance down reveals that Riza’s eyes are open and locked on her face, and it’s enough to undo Winry’s restraint. “Riza,” she whimpers as she feels the first waves of her orgasm set in, locking up every muscle in her body and sending throbs of pleasure through her. 

Her eyes close of their own volition, and for a few blissful moments she feels nothing other than Hawkeye inside her, surrounding her, filling her. And even when the mind-numbing joy fades, she feels relaxed in a way she hasn’t for a few weeks now. 

Riza is still inside of her, and taking note of the stretch, Winry realizes a third finger has slipped in thanks to the abundance of wetness that she released during her climax. She’s still moving, too, teasing the last few vestiges of pleasure out of Winry, whose legs feel like they’ve turned to jelly.

“Riza,” she says again, tugging at the other woman’s hand that’s still holding her down. “Come up here and kiss me.”

The look she gets is molten sex, and Winry’s clit twitches at the sight.

“And what if I would prefer to stay down here?” Hawkeye asks, blowing teasingly against Winry’s wetness. “You look very beautiful when you come, and I would like to see it again, if possible.” The pads of her fingers press a little more insistently against Winry’s front wall, and the shivers this elicits are proof that the lieutenant is not keen on playing fair. 

Before Winry can so much as produce a sound, Hawkeye’s mouth resumes its activity of sucking on her, and the second orgasm takes much less effort on her part than the first. The additional stretch of the third finger also does nothing but increase Winry’s awareness of how utterly she is being _ taken _by the woman she cares for. 

While her second orgasm comes on faster, it feels just as intense as the first, albeit with the duration of the bliss just a little bit shorter. 

A soft noise of happy assent leaves her throat when Hawkeye finally pushes herself up a little with her free hand, while keeping the fingers of her right snugly fitted inside Winry. The first kiss they share has Winry wrapping both arms around Riza’s shoulders as she tastes herself. It’s a good flavor on Hawkeye, and Winry feels absolutely shameless when she licks and sucks any excess wetness from Hawkeye’s chin. 

“Winry,” Riza murmurs, before dragging her back into a kiss and sliding her tongue into Winry’s mouth. The tongue that has just been making her see stars. 

“Thank you,” Winry says when they pull away, curling her legs around Hawkeye’s waist and rolling her hips against her lieutenant’s fingers. “You have no idea how much I needed this.” Her hands cup Hawkeye’s cheeks. “I was terrified when you didn’t call.” She lays a kiss against the bridge of Riza’s nose. “It feels good to touch you like this. To _ feel _you like this.” 

The look on Hawkeye's face is almost achingly tender.

“I’m glad to be home, Miss Rockbell.”

-

When Hawkeye rolls off of her to take off her sweatpants and underwear, Winry halts her efforts for a moment to have another look at the bandage and a peek underneath. She’s relieved to find that the stitches are holding steady, and she lays a small kiss against the bandage as soon as it’s back in place.

“How’s it looking?” Riza asks, sliding her hand into Winry’s hair, fingernails scratching gently against her scalp. The color has finally returned fully to her cheeks, and she looks nothing like the tired woman from just a few hours ago. 

“Like you didn’t have a doctor treat it,” Winry teases, using her position to full advantage and biting a little at Hawkeye’s abdomen. “Like a mechanic stitched you up as best as she could.” She licks a long stripe in between Hawkeye’s abs, culminating in a kiss placed on her sternum. 

“A very talented mechanic,” Riza adds, cradling Winry’s cheeks and tugging her up for a kiss. 

“Mhm, if you think sweet-talking me will get you out of trouble, Lieutenant Hawkeye, you have a long road of disappointment ahead of you.” She slides her hand along Riza’s waist, gentler perhaps than might be warranted for such a sexually charged situation. 

“As long as I get to walk that road with you, Miss Rockbell, I think I will be just fine.”

Winry shakes her head.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmurs as she tugs at the elastic band of Hawkeye’s sweatpants. “And here you have a reputation of being a woman of few words.” 

A laugh slips out of Riza’s lovely mouth.

“You bring it out in me, I’m afraid,” she says, lifting her hips so Winry can tug off the sweatpants.

-

It’s dark out by the time Winry wakes from her nap, and she isn’t quite sure what has disrupted her sleep at first. She still feels warm and sated from what she presumes was a few hours ago at this point, if the evening sky is to be trusted, and her cheek has found a very nice spot on Lieutenant Hawkeye’s chest, right above her right breast. 

They’re both still naked, though they have at this point moved underneath the blanket, and Winry contemplates simply going back to sleep. The lieutenant still seems to be conked out, her breathing steady and even. She looks beautiful in sleep, though no more beautiful than she did when Winry brought her to climax. 

With a smile, she snuggles back into Riza’s chest, nosing softly at her skin for a moment before closing her eyes. She’s almost drifted back off again when she hears a scratching noise from the door and a pitiful whine from behind it. 

Eyelids popping back open, Winry pushes herself into a sitting position, Hawkeye’s arms tightening around her waist as she slumbers on. 

“You’re so cute,” Winry tells Hawkeye’s unconscious form and presses a quick kiss against her forehead before disentangling herself and clambering off the bed. Unheeding of her nakedness, she opens the bedroom door and finds herself face to face with White Rakurai and Black Hayate, who look up at her with the worst puppy dog eyes she’s seen on them in a while. 

“Well, aren't you just the most starved little puppies, hm?” she says quietly, leaving them there for a moment so she can grab Hawkeye’s used tank top and sweatpants off the floor. Walking around the apartment naked would only make her paranoid. 

With one last look at a peacefully resting Lieutenant Hawkeye, Winry smiles to herself and joins the two dogs in the hallway. Only there does she put on the clothes, humming softly to herself as she brings the bottom of the top to her nose and takes a sniff of the comforting smell. 

She almost falls over Black Hayate when she enters the kitchen, because he’s so eager to get to his empty food bowl. 

Shaking her head, Winry reaches up into the kitchen cabinet to pull out a new can of dog food. 

White Rakurai makes a little squeaking sound as Winry opens the can.

“Oh yes, I know,” she says, reaching down to rub the dog between its eyes. “We’re so cruel for having sex all afternoon and leaving you here all by your lonesome.” Crouching down, she picks up the empty bowls. “But you could at least be a little happy for me.” 

Two tails thump up and down in excitement when she sets the fresh food back onto the ground. 

Rolling her eyes, Winry laughs and pats their backs, before leaving them to their own devices. She’ll have to walk them soon, too, but that doesn’t mean she can’t spend a few more quality moments in bed with a certain naked lieutenant.

Only, after washing and drying her hands, she reenters the bedroom to find Hawkeye already sitting up and looking down at a pile of papers on her lap. The lamp on the bedside table is switched on, bathing her naked torso in a warm glow. 

“Miss Rockbell,” she says with a smile, putting aside the papers and gracing her with a tender smile. “Did the beasts come a-knocking?” The blanket is laid across her lap, and she pats it gently as though indicating Winry should get back into bed. 

It’s an invitation Winry is only too glad to follow.

“Got it in one,” she says as she slides the tank top and sweatpants back off. She particularly enjoys the way Hawkeye’s eyes follow her movements as she undresses, and she feels a pleasant tingle in her stomach at the thought of sleeping with Riza again. Hopefully soon. “I fed them, so we have a bit of time until they need to go outside.”

With a hum, Hawkeye accepts the explanation, as well as Winry into her arms. 

Sliding under the blanket, Winry leans against the other woman’s chest, curling Hawkeye’s arms around herself so she’s almost back in the same position as before, albeit on Riza’s other side. As always, Riza is hot to the touch, and Winry slides down a little so she can place her hand on the lieutenant’s thigh more comfortably under the blanket. 

“Are you working already?” she asks, indicating the pile of papers with her head. “I’m not sure I approve of that.”

Riza chuckles, her fingers drawing small circles on Winry’s naked stomach. 

“I promised General Mustang I’d go through some paperwork for him, since Lieutenant Albatross apparently has her hands full with a different matter. I’m sure they’re both linked to Aerugo.” She picks up the paperwork and shows it to Winry, who barely glances down at it. 

She finds that real life encroaching on her bubble of sexual bliss is a lot less fun than simply not thinking about it. 

Picking the paperwork from Hawkeye’s hands, she softly drops it off the side of the bed. 

“No,” she says, before pushing Hawkeye back into the pillows.

“No?” Hawkeye asks, amusement dancing across her expression.

“Yes. _ No _ Aerugo, _ no _ war, _ no _Albatross or Mustang.” Winry takes care not to jostle Riza’s side as she straddles her, accepting Hawkeye’s hands when they reach out to hold her waist. “The only thing you need to focus on today is resting that tired body of yours.” She slides her hands along Hawkeye’s chest and shoulders, tracing the love bites she’s left there earlier. 

Raising one eyebrow, Riza lets her hands slide back a little so she can grab a handful of Winry’s ass. 

“This is what resting is? I must have been misinformed,” she says teasingly, tugging Winry down so that her arousal is smeared across Hawkeye’s stomach. 

“Who do you believe more?” Winry asks as she moves back and draws her fingers through the soft tuft of hair above Hawkeye’s clit. “Me, the woman who has been taking care of you for the last few hours, or your lying memories?” 

Leaning forward, she brings her mouth to the scar on Riza’s neck and kisses it softly, pleased to feel Hawkeye reclining and leaning back her head to bare more of her skin. It’s not submission exactly, but it feels close enough, and Winry can’t help but feel _ powerful _ and _ wanted. _

It’s intoxicating, to be close to someone who so openly appreciates her. 

“I feel like there’s a wrong and a right answer to that question,” Hawkeye lifts her hips as best as she can with Winry on top of her, clearly trying to indicate that she’s ready to accept Winry’s fingers on her. “And it’s probably not the one I’d expect.”

With a smile, Winry slides her fingers down and into Riza’s wetness, feeling humbled all over again that the other woman would be so aroused for her. When she starts circling her clit, Riza lets out a relieved little breath of air.

“You’re learning fast, Lieutenant,” Winry says sweetly, licking up Hawkeye’s neck and sucking her earlobe into her mouth. She lets out an appreciative moan when Hawkeye’s hands tighten on her ass, and somehow, the thought of Riza leaving bruises on her because she can’t hold herself back is entirely too enticing. 

Her fingers slide down to circle Riza’s entrance while her thumb takes over rubbing her clit. 

“I’m only following orders, Corporal,” Hawkeye pants, her eyes glassy and unfocused with pleasure. Seeing her usual control slip and shatter is a kink Winry didn’t know she had prior to this experience. 

Dipping only the tip of her middle finger inside, Winry noses at the skin behind Riza’s ear.

“Lieutenant,” she whispers, pressing her free hand against Riza’s chest and keeping her in place, “may I fuck you now?”

A beat of silence follows, then Riza appears to find her footing.

"I would love nothing more, Miss Rockb-," she says, although her words are cut off by a gasp when Winry slides two fingers inside of her. She enjoys it when Hawkeye calls her Miss, but she likes it even more when she can make that gentle facade crack. "Oh, Winry, _ yes." _

She starts with a slow pace, matching her strokes to the way Hawkeye's abdominal muscles flex every time a tremor of pleasure rushes through her. 

If Riza's skin is akin to touching a furnace, then being inside her is like entering a volcano. 

Her walls quiver whenever Winry touches her just right, and she squeezes down on her fingers every time Winry rubs along her front wall. Her whole body is beautifully responsive, and although she makes almost no sound, the sighs that do manage to slip past her resolve are all the more precious. 

Upping her pace just slightly, Winry pulls away from Riza's neck so she has a better view of her furrowing brows. Her eyes are closed, her mouth slightly open as she pants, and her throat beautifully presented. 

She keeps most of her energy on thrusting, rubbing Hawkeye’s clit with her thumb on every third stroke. With her free left hand, Winry caresses the Lieutenant’s sternum and breasts, teasingly circling her nipples. 

“Winry,” Riza gasps out in between thrusts as she drops one of her hands to the bed so she can have some leverage to roll her hips into Winry’s movements. “Gods, Winry, I—” She gasps again, pressing her head further against the wall behind her. “I love--doing this with you.”

Leaning further in, Winry ghosts her lips across Hawkeye’s jawline. 

“I love doing this with you, too,” she says, right before she brings their lips together in a messy kiss, hoping to convey just how much she means her words. And how much more she loves about being with Riza. 

They’re still kissing as Hawkeye reaches her climax, her whole body growing taut with tension and her walls squeezing down on Winry’s fingers. She keeps them moving, applying pressure against Riza’s front wall to draw out her pleasure, her thumb rubbing back and forth on her clit. 

“You look so gorgeous when you come for me, Lieutenant,” Winry murmurs against the other woman’s ear, before nipping on her earlobe again. This time, she’s very sure that Hawkeye’s fingers have left bruises on her ass. Secretly, she hopes she will feel her for days, every time she sits down. 

When Hawkeye’s body finally slumps, Winry slowly pulls out her fingers. 

“Thank you, Winry,” Riza pants, brown eyes opening just in time to see Winry bring her hand to her mouth and slipping her fingers inside so she can suck off the lieutenant’s wetness. Breath hitching, Hawkeye pulls Winry closer again, and she barely has time to relinquish her fingers before Riza’s mouth is on hers in a ravenous kiss. Then, just as quickly, Winry’s on her back with Hawkeye on top of her, blonde hair falling around them like a halo of sunshine. 

“What are you doing to me, Miss Rockbell?” she asks, just as she pushes Winry’s thighs open with her hands. 

Wrapping both arms around Hawkeye, Winry lifts up her pelvis in invitation.

“Nothing you aren’t doing to me, Riza,” she retorts, right as Hawkeye slips two fingers inside her.

It’s a blissful feeling, being filled again, and Winry lets out an appreciative moan, before tugging Riza in for another kiss. 

-

They only stop making love when Black Hayate and White Rakurai jump on the bed, looking for attention and a walk. 

It’s not awkward, exactly, because Winry is too well-fucked to really care much about anything, but it does make her wish she’d had the presence of mind to close the bedroom door again after feeding them. Still, watching Riza get out of bed in the nude and walk around the bedroom with her assets on full display makes up for all of it. 

Mostly.

Until White Rakurai tries sniffing Winry’s face, which is still slightly wet from when she ate out Riza not a few minutes prior. 

It’s enough of a cue to get her own butt moving, too.

-

Winry’s just turned on the water in the shower when she feels arms wrap around her from behind. “What are you doing?” she asks, leaning into the other woman’s embrace and enjoying the way Hawkeye kisses her shoulder.

“Conserving water,” Riza murmurs, squeezing Winry’s waist as she reaches out to test the heat of the shower. “Why? Do you want your privacy?” 

Looking behind them, Winry sees that the lieutenant has had the foresight to close the door. Otherwise, surely, two mournful dogs would be sitting next to them, wondering why they’re not moving their butts outside already.

“I just don’t know how good an idea it will be if we share.” Winry runs her hand along Hawkeye’s bicep, closing her eyes as she’s held evermore tightly, like she will disappear if Riza lets her go for too long. “So far, we haven’t shown a lot of restraint.”

With a hum and a shrug, Hawkeye disentangles herself, and Winry instantly misses her warmth. 

“I don’t know, I think I showed a lot of restraint these last few weeks. As have you,” she says, before turning to one of her cabinets and pulling out a plastic bag and a roll of masking tape. Her intent is clear as she starts covering up her bandage, and Winry furrows her brows.

“I’m a little concerned that you have supplies like that in here. I don’t like what that implies,” she says, before taking pity on her lieutenant and holding the plastic bag in place so Hawkeye’s can affix it over her bandage in order to keep it from getting wet. “And I’m not sure if I did show any restraint.” She strokes along Hawkeye’s stomach. “I felt horribly obvious about my attraction. You must have known the whole time how I felt?”

Curling her fingers around Winry’s and holding them in place, Hawkeye lifts her shoulder in a shrug.

“I’m ashamed to admit that I did not realize you wished to pursue a relationship with me until I told you I was leaving for the Southern border,” she says, bringing Winry’s hand up to her face and kissing the back of it. “And even then, I did not dare dream that my feelings could be reciprocated.”

Nearly overwhelmed, Winry cups Hawkeye’s cheek with her free hand and leans up for a gentle kiss. 

“How could I not fall for you?” She takes a few indulgent moments to slide her thumb along Hawkeye’s bottom lip. “If anything, I didn’t think you could ever reciprocate _ my _feelings.” 

Riza laughs and shakes her head. 

“It seems a miracle that we managed to get to this point at all,” she says, leaning down and pressing their lips together once more. Her hand holds Winry’s close to her chest, and her smile is so soft when she pulls away that Winry barely remembers how to breathe. “Perhaps my brief absence was a blessing.”

Shaking her head, Winry slides her hand from Hawkeye’s cheek to her neck, gently stroking the scar there.

“Next time you want to tell me something, please don’t go to the Southern border to do it.”

Lieutenant Hawkeye shrugs.

“I shall endeavor not to,” she says diplomatically, and Winry shakes her head again before wrapping both arms around Riza’s neck and dragging her into a more insistent kiss. One of these days, maybe she’ll be able to kiss the stupid out of her new partner. 

Until then, she’ll make do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> home stretch! just the prologue left now! sorry again for the delay, hope it was worth it !!!
> 
> if you want to support me, find me on tumblr @goshdarnitjay
> 
> all mistakes are mine
> 
> xoxo Jay


	10. a nice time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> je-s-u-s christ, people
> 
> how long has it been
> 
> this story has been finished for MONTHS and yet i totally ineptly did not upload the epilogue --- i blame corona, jsyk. i spent all of march working 10 hours a day
> 
> anywayyyy, this is it! i hope you enjoyed!!!

The automail in her hands sparks and crackles as she applies her smallest welding torch to it. Her gloves and face mask keep her from feeling too much of the heat, even with her arms bare and her upper body barely covered by a dark brown turtleneck. 

Next to her, Captain Whitworth is showing their new apprentice how to work with his special fiberglass textures. The recruit is a nice boy, although at the moment he seems a little too interested in her, and she wonders if she should get Hawkeye down here so she can stake a claim and get him to back off. 

So far, his attentions have mostly involved staring and trying to get her to have lunch with him a few times. Nothing she can’t handle.

“I’m almost done with this arm, see?” Whitworth says, showing the new guy the nice flowers he’s been hand-carving for about five months, two of which Winry has been present for. It’s still not finished, but Winry appreciates his dedication. 

“It’s very nice, sir,” the new apprentice says politely, and Winry wonders how he’s able to stay so calm around all of this automail. 

Some people are just weird, she supposes.

When she’s done with her welding, she sets the torch down next to her and pushes up her mask, wiping at her brow with the back of her glove. She ignores the stare this garners from the new guy, and makes a grab for her water bottle. 

“The more things change, the more they stay the same,” a voice says from behind her, and Winry nearly drops the bottle right there. 

Whipping around, her eyes widen comically as she spots the man standing in the doorway. 

“Miss me?” he asks, spreading his arms wide, and Winry barely remembers to put down her water before she’s running towards him.

“Al!” she calls out as she throws herself at him, and he laughs loudly as he catches her. His body is a far cry from how it was when it first emerged from the Truth, and he has no trouble holding her up as he swings her around. “Welcome back!”

Behind him, Ed stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a smug look on his face. 

“It’s good to be home,” Al says, clearly referring to the three of them being reunited again after such a long separation. 

“What are you doing here? Ed didn’t tell me anything about you coming back to Amestris!” Pulling away, Winry places both hands on Alphonse’s shoulders and looks him up and down, happy to see he’s put on a little more weight since leaving them three years ago to go traveling in Xing. She throws an indignant look in Ed’s direction at his betrayal, but Al throws up his hands before they can start bickering again. 

“I didn’t tell him, either,” he reveals, softly patting Winry’s forearm. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Ed sticks his tongue out at her and Winry rolls her eyes.

“I see the two of you are still getting on well,” Al says sarcastically, before leaning past Winry and waving. “Captain Whitworth, long time no see!” His happy smile is returned in full, although it is only slightly dampened by the disheartened expression on the new guy’s face. 

“Alphonse Elric, as I live and breathe!” Whitworth bellows as he comes forward and holds out his arms for a hug. “My, my, haven’t you grown into a tall, handsome man!” Winry steps aside so he can squeeze Al’s body, her friend laughing and patting the older man’s back. “I was hoping you’d return before I retired.”

“It’s good to see you too, Captain.” He gives Winry a smile and she realizes abruptly how much she has missed his earnestness. Ed is her best friend, but so is Al, and he brings an entirely different dynamic to all of their interactions. “My brother told me that Professor Whitworth recently won another award from the Society of Renkinjutsu. Please extend my regards to him. I would love to discuss the paper that won him the award, if I could.”

Whitworth slaps Alphone’s back a few times before pulling away.

“You simply must come to dinner soon,” he says, placing his hand on Al’s shoulder. “I’m sure Richard would love to pick your brain on your experiences in Xing.” Whitworth looks at Winry and smiles. “You and the Lieutenant are welcome as well, of course.” He directs his eyes to Ed next, while Al looks at Winry with a funny look on his face. “As are you, Sergeant Elric.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Ed exclaims, placing his hands on his hips and nodding with some determination while Al laughs.

A warmth passes through Winry, reminding her again of what family really feels like. It’s like a piece of the puzzle has finally slotted into place, rounding out her life in a way she had only tangentially been aware of has been missing.

After quickly going further into the shop to pick up her tote bag, she wraps her arm around Al’s shoulders and steers him out of the shop.

“I’m taking an early break, Captain!” she says, patting Whitworth on his bicep.

“Have fun!” he calls after them as they walk away, leaving him along with a brooding new apprentice and the automail limbs. 

-

The courtyard is alight with sunshine and since it’s a little early for lunch, the place isn’t nearly as crammed as it sometimes is. 

Together, they find a table and sit down, where Winry opens up her plastic box of small omelettes and presents them to the boys, who immediately pick one up each and start chowing down. 

“I can’t believe you’re really back,” Winry says as she watches them eat, thinking she’ll simply steal some of Riza’s lunch later. 

“I thought it was time,” Al says after swallowing his mouthful of food. “With the way things are at the Southern border between Amestris and Aerugo, I thought I might come back and take my State Alchemist exam so I can be of aid in the diplomatic talks.”

With an inward sigh, Winry picks up one of the small circular omelettes herself.

“I’m glad you’re back, but that is a shitty reason for it.” She glances at Ed, who looks equally as unhappy about these news, though he doesn’t seem surprised. “Riza just came back from some of those talks, and it really isn’t looking good.”

Again, that strange expression from before crosses his face.

“Riza?” he asks, picking up another one of the omelettes. “Hawkeye? Are you still staying with her? Ed told me you moved in with her temporarily when you started up here. Is that still going on?”

Before Winry can say anything, Ed’s face splits into a grin.

“Oh, that’s right, I didn’t tell you,” he says, placing his hand on Al’s shoulder and sending Winry a smug look. “I was right, Al. Winry and Lieutenant Hawkeye are  _ totally  _ shacking up.” His tone of voice is loud and obnoxious, and enough for Winry to hit him upside the head. 

She and Riza aren’t exactly hiding that they’re together, but it’s also not something they feel particularly comfortable shouting from the rooftops while they’re working. Especially since Riza is still technically her superior.

There hasn’t been a single make-out session in a storage closet, though Winry sometimes longs to fulfill those fantasies. Especially when she sees Hawkeye strutting through the halls like she’s on a mission.

“Why don’t you write everyone an official note about it!” she says heatedly, glaring at him as he holds his head. 

Next to them, Al takes a few seconds to process, then he starts laughing. 

“What’s so funny about it, Elric?” Winry asks accusingly, and he brings his hand to his mouth to hide his mirth, almost dropping the omelette in the process. 

“Nothing!” he insists through his laughter as she shakes her fist at him. “Nothing!”

With a huff, she sits back down, before her own face morphs into a smile.

-

Ed is called back to work soon after, so Winry puts the now empty plastic box into her tote bag and decides to take a walk with Al along the courtyard. She doesn’t have a set time that she needs to clock in and out. As long as she does her work, no one cares if she takes thirty extra minutes for her break. 

Closing her eyes briefly, she tips her head back and soaks in the sunshine. 

Al softly touches her arm.

“You look really happy,” he observes, the smile on his face warm and encouraging.

“I am,” she admits, folding her hands behind her back.

“That’s wonderful, Winry.” He nudges her shoulder with his. “Is it true, what Ed said? You and Lieutenant Hawkeye are going out?” There’s no ulterior motive to his question, and Winry is reminded of how much she’s missed her friend and his sensitive nature. 

Her cheeks warm as she looks up at the row of windows she knows are hiding Riza.

“It’s true, yes,” she says, thinking back to the prior evening and how sweetly Hawkeye had made love to her. How soft she’d been when she slid into Winry and filled her; how her mouth had sucked a deep mark into Winry’s neck, which is the very reason she had to put on one of Riza’s own turtlenecks this morning. “Riza and I started dating about a month ago now.”

With a hum, Al wraps his arm around her shoulders.

“I’m so glad,” he says, pressing his cheek briefly against her head. “I don’t even have to ask if she’s treating you well, because it’s the Lieutenant.” He lets out a chuckle. “I kind of feel like I should be asking you if you’re treating  _ her  _ well.”

She pokes his side. 

“I don’t know what you’re implying, Alphonse. I’m a  _ wonderful  _ person to be around.”

He laughs again.

She wraps her arm around his waist in turn.

-

Brushing her hair, Winry reclines a little more on Riza’s bed and tries not to get annoyed whenever the brush catches a tangle she hasn’t realized was there. It’s still wet from the shower, and a little more unmanageable than usual.

Next to her, Riza is doing her pull ups, and Winry is more than glad she no longer has to pretend that she isn’t watching. 

“Captain Whitworth invited us to dinner at his place,” Winry offers, remembering the conversation from earlier just as she puts down the brush. Now that her task is done, she slides back on the bed and openly gazes at her girlfriend and the way her back muscles move up and down under the tattoo as she works out. 

“That’s nice,” Riza replies after another pull up, just before letting herself sink back down to the ground for a minute of relaxation. She wipes at the sweat on her brow and gives Winry a gentle smile. “Any idea on a potential date yet?”

“No,” Winry replies, placing her hands on her stomach and watching a drop of sweat slide down in between Riza’s breasts before disappearing behind her sports bra. “But he also invited Al and Ed, so we’ll have to coordinate our schedules.”

Seemingly unaware of the effect she’s having on Winry’s libido, Hawkeye grips the metal bar above her again and starts her next set. There’s a grin on her face the next time Winry looks at it, so maybe she  _ does  _ know. Maybe she’s just a tease.

“Sounds like a nice time,” Hawkeye says through a heavy breath, her biceps bulging when she lingers with her chin atop the bar for a second longer. When she’s finally done, she wipes at her face again as she walks over to the bed. “You must be happy that Alphonse is back.” 

With a smirk, she watches as Winry gets to her knees and crawls towards her.

“Not as happy as General Mustang, I think. One more person for his very own command squad,” Winry retorts, before leaning down and sucking on Hawkeye’s sternum, licking up the sweat she was just admiring. 

Baring her neck, Hawkeye sinks her hands into Winry’s wet hair, letting out a breathy little sigh as she’s bitten just slightly on the unscarred side of it. 

“He thinks there’s something working against peace again. On our side,” she whispers, leaning her body closer as Winry slides her fingers into her work-out shorts. “Of course he’s excited to have another person here whomst he can trust.” Her hips buck just slightly into Winry’s hand as her clit is circled. 

“How are you already this wet,” Winry murmurs, feeling awed at just how responsive Hawkeye is to her advances. Even after a month of love making, it’s still just as exciting as the first time. Even more so in some ways, because she knows just how to touch Riza now to make her lose control. 

Hawkeye laughs gently.

“I’ve been wet since you went to work this morning wearing my clothes,” she admits, her thighs quivering as Winry continues to circle her clit. “I was imagining it all day. People walking past and seeing a part of me on you.” She lets out the most beautiful little gasp when Winry finally slips inside her entrance with two of her fingers. 

Wrapping her free hand around Riza’s waist, Winry closes her eyes and presses her lips along her girlfriend’s jawline.

“I wish I could wear your scent like a mark,” Winry murmurs against Riza’s cheek as she thrusts in and out of her, fingers gripped tightly by her soft walls. “I wish they would look at me and know who it is I belong to. That you’re the only one who makes me feel like this.” She rubs her palm against Hawkeye’s clit, wringing out a few more gasps of pleasure. “That you’re the only one who gets to fuck me like this.”

The words are almost enough to make Riza come; Winry can feel it in the way her walls quiver, and when she makes a come hither motion with her fingers, her girlfriend tenses up in her climax, going almost rigid enough that she would fall over if Winry wasn’t there to hold her upright. 

She strokes and rubs her through her orgasm, before slowly pulling her hand from Hawkeye’s workout shorts and bringing them upwards. Softly, she lays them on Riza’s bottom lip, letting out a satisfied little moan when Hawkeye opens her mouth and sucks them inside. 

“Fuck, I love you,” Winry mumbles, before surging forwards and pulling her girlfriend into a rough kiss that culminates with them fully sprawled on the bed and Winry’s fresh pair of panties somewhere around her ankles. 

When she comes with three of Hawkeye’s fingers inside of her, she wonders whether she should have bothered to take a shower at all. But that thought only lingers for a moment, as she feels Riza slide down the bed, and before she knows what’s happening, there’s a mouth on her clit and the fingers are moving again.

She feels more than hears the  _ I love you, too _ , right as a tongue distracts her from the rest of the world. 

-

Scritching Black Hayate behind the ears, Winry stares at the television while Hawkeye putters around in the kitchen behind her. White Rakurai has sneakily stolen Riza’s previously occupied seat on the couch and has placed her head on Winry’s knee, where she’s now snoring.

“You’re missing the best bit,” Winry insists as she looks behind her. It’s always a sight to behold, seeing Riza just after sex. Her hair is just a little disheveled, especially the few strands that fall onto her forehead. And she never bothers buttoning her shirts after she throws them on. 

She doesn’t realize she’s staring again until Hawkeye laughs.

“Now you’re the one missing the best bit. I can see just fine from here,” she teases Winry, who sticks a tongue out at her before looking back at the television. They’re watching a crime show supposedly about a real murder that took place half a century ago. Winry isn’t entirely convinced she believes the filmmakers. 

“Do up your shirt, then,” Winry says with a pout, annoyed that her stupid girlfriend’s stupid white blouse reveals so much delectable skin. At least Hawkeye bothered to put on her black sweatpants this time. 

“You do up yours,” Riza defends herself, and Winry looks down to realize her uniform jacket (the one she stole from Hawkeye) is undone and reveals quite a bit of her own skin. 

“Touché,” she says, going back to staring at Riza as she pours hot water into the tea kettle.

Riza shakes her head.

“Incorrigible,” she says, right before she carries two empty mugs to the coffee table. Leaning down just slightly, she runs her hand across Black Hayate’s head as she steals a kiss from Winry’s waiting lips. “Simply incorrigible.”

Grabbing the two open sides of Hawkeye’s shirt, Winry pulls her in for another kiss, this one longer. More insistent.

“We’re both useless lesbians, what do you expect?”

Another kiss follows. 

Then another.

Then, a doggy tongue joins in on the action. 

“Raku!” Winry whines as the dog tries licking them across their faces.

And Winry thinks that if this is to be her life now, Riza laughing gently as they try to reign in their dogs while the tea is steeping on the kitchen counter, then she will be fine no matter what the world throws at them next. 

No matter what other corruption her government can cook up; if there really is to be a war or not. 

She may yet be able to convince her Granny to move to Central Amestris, but at least she knows she will always have a home here in the city.

A safe haven where she can seek shelter.

As long as Riza is with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i am SO sorry for not updating this sooner, even though it was literally finished .......................
> 
> and thank you so much to everyone for reading and commenting and kudos-ing! you always make my day
> 
> if you want to support me, find me on tumblr @goshdarnitjay


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